by Betty Neels
‘You’d be surprised!’ Tabitha spoke with some feeling, remembering Mr Raynard’s activities on board. ‘He’ll be back very soon now.’ She smiled at him very kindly because he had been in hospital a long time and never grumbled. ‘Not long now, Mr Prosser, before you’re home again.’
He beamed at her. ‘Yes, and won’t I be glad? Not that you’ve not been tops, ducks, you and the nurses, but I’ve ’ad enough ’ospital ter last me. Can’t think ’ow yer stand it year after year.’
Tabitha wondered too as she walked away, to bump into George Steele at the ward door. He said with genuine pleasure:
‘Tabby, how nice to see you again! We’ve missed you—no coffee after the round and no cups of tea when we’re exhausted.’
‘Well, if that’s all you missed me for—tea and coffee—the very idea! I might just as well be working for British Railways.’
He laughed. ‘Well, can we sample the coffee now while we go over the patients?’
They sat in her office and pored over charts and notes until the coffee arrived. ‘Now tell me about your holiday,’ he demanded.
Tabitha sipped her Nescafé, so different from Hans’s great enamel pot in the kitchen at Veere. ‘It was lovely. We went sailing every day—well, nearly every day, and Mr Bow is almost fit again and Mr Raynard can’t wait to start work.’
‘And van Beek?’
She choked a little. ‘He’s fine—he’s coming back for a few days.’
George eyed her over his mug. ‘Yes, I know that—he telephoned me. What else did you do?’
‘Well, we sailed and swam and—and talked and did some shopping.’
‘What, no dancing and dining by candlelight…’ He was interrupted by Mrs Jeffs, who put her head round the door and said in a conspirator’s whisper: ‘He’s in the ward, Sister—he came in through the balcony door.’
‘Who?’ asked Tabitha, knowing very well.
‘Why, Mr van Beek, Sister.’ Mrs Jeffs looked a little put out and then broke into a rich chuckle as her head disappeared and Marius came in. He said hullo to them both in a placid voice and then turned to Tabitha.
‘How does it feel to be back?’ he wanted to know. He eyed the coffee pot. ‘I see your staff are already mothering you very nicely.’
‘Me!’ Tabitha sounded indignant as Mrs Jeffs came in with another mug. ‘You’re the one who’s being mothered!’
‘And quite right too.’ He disposed his length cautiously on the small wooden chair and added amiably: ‘I’m a bachelor with no one to look after me.’
‘How about Hans?’
‘Hans? A first-class chauffeur, a splendid cook and a wonderful way with children, but I fear he would make a poor wife.’
They all laughed and Tabitha observed: ‘But he would have made a splendid husband.’
Marius helped himself to sugar. ‘Hans has been married. His wife was killed when Rotterdam was bombed in 1940. She was twenty and they had been married just over one year.’
Tabitha put down her cup. ‘Oh, poor Hans—I wish I’d known.’
Marius asked: ‘Do you mind if we smoke?’ and when she shook her head the two men set about the ritual of pipe filling. When they were nicely wreathed in smoke, Marius asked: ‘Why?’
Tabitha hesitated. ‘Well, I like Hans, I should have liked to have heard about his wife…’
Marius nodded. ‘Probably he’ll tell you, he likes you too. He’ll be coming over shortly for a quick visit—he won’t stay long because of Smith.’
Tabitha wondered why Hans should come to England. ‘Will you ask him to come and see me when he does?’
Marius said: ‘Yes, of course.’ His voice was non-committal and he wasn’t smiling, and yet she formed the impression that he was laughing. There was no way of finding out, for he had put down his cup and turned to George, who had been sitting quietly watching them; making no attempt to join in their talk, almost as though he guessed that they had forgotten that he was there.
‘Shall we do a quick round, George?’ They all stood up and as Tabitha went ahead of them through the door he said: ‘I’d like to get away before twelve if I can—I’ve promised to be at Chidlake for lunch.’
They did the round with ten minutes to spare, and Tabitha, her tanned face serious and withdrawn, did everything she should have done with her usual deftness and good sense, although the fact that she produced the right forms at the right times and handed the correct charts and turned back the right bedclothes was due solely to her excellent training and years of usage, for her mind was on other things. Marius was wasting no time in going to Chidlake; she allowed her imagination to run riot as they went from bed to bed while she made notes of Marius’s wishes and held up X-rays for his inspection. It was at the finish of the round, as the men were leaving that Marius asked softly: ‘And where were you all this while, Tabitha?’
She gave him a quick look, in case he was joking. He wasn’t. ‘I was here.’ Her voice sounded small.
‘So you were,’ he agreed blandly, ‘but your thoughts were a long way off?’
She looked guilty. ‘Oh—did I miss something?’
He shook his head. ‘Shall I give your love to your stepmother and Lilith?’
‘Yes, please,’ and then: ‘No, not my love, just—just say I hope they had a good journey back.’
He nodded and put a hand on the patient George’s shoulder. He said formally: ‘Goodbye, Sister, and thank you.’ The men turned away and he went on: ‘George, Mr Bow is coming back for a checkup. Can I leave you to deal with him?’
They walked away, deep in talk, and she went back into the ward to help tidy the beds for Matron’s round.
There was a heavy list the next day; she didn’t see Marius until late in the afternoon after the last case had come back from theatre. His visit was brief—to see his cases and to make sure that they were satisfactory. He looked tired and said nothing at all to Tabitha beyond an absent-minded good evening. And the following day when he came he brought Mr Raynard with him, with his stick and his stiff leg and a tongue which to Tabby’s ears sounded sharper than ever. He didn’t like the curtains for a start, nor the colour of the paint; she was afraid that he would declare that he didn’t like the patients either, but luckily his attention was diverted by the sight of Mr Bow, looking unnaturally brown amongst all the white faces and without his plaster. He drew up a chair and sat down to talk with the old gentleman, which improved his temper so much that he grudgingly admitted that perhaps the curtains weren’t so bad after all. ‘And what the hell is Prosser doing here?’ he demanded of Tabitha, who happened to be nearest to him.
She explained calmly and he heard her out and then declared grumpily:
‘She’s a different girl, isn’t she, Marius? So prim and efficient, just as though she’d never worn a bikini in her life.’
Tabitha, a little red in the face, looked round at the patients to make sure none of them had heard this outrageous remark. Apparently not. She observed patiently: ‘Look, sir, I can’t do a round in a bikini.’
Mr Raynard laughed, his humour quite restored. ‘A different girl, though. Eh, Marius?’
‘No,’ said Marius deliberately, ‘exactly the same girl.’ He smiled at Tabitha—he hadn’t smiled like that since they were in Veere. She looked away quickly, aware of her heart pounding beneath her starched apron. It was later in the day, when they had gone, that she remembered that Marius had been to Chidlake to lunch, yet she herself had received that message not to go there because they would be away. She frowned over it and then in a little rush of work, forgot it.
She remembered it the next day when George casually mentioned that he would be on call for the next couple of days. Tabitha frowned. ‘But you can’t be, George,’ she exclaimed. ‘Mr van Beek’s down on the list in the office.’
‘I know, but he wants to be free to go over to Chidlake.’
‘But the house is empty—I had a message.’
‘Don’t know anything about it,’ said Geo
rge comfortably, and with that useless remark she had to be content, though she resolved then and there to go to Chidlake at the first opportunity.
There was no opportunity. Marius only operated twice in the week, but his lists were formidable; he was going back to Holland for a few days in a week’s time; he seemed intent on cramming in as much work as possible. She had already put off one free day and when Marius stopped for a rare word with her and remarked that she really ought not to work every day without a break, her temper flared.
‘Chance would be a fine thing,’ she declared roundly. ‘Just how do I take a day off when Staff is off with a sore throat?’
‘You told me not half an hour ago that she would be back on duty tomorrow.’
Tabitha fixed him with a smouldering eye. ‘And I shall take a day off,’ she snapped.
Marius put down the X-ray film he had been studying. ‘Good. What will you do?’
‘I shall go to Chidlake.’ She hadn’t meant to tell him, and now she frowned with vexation.
He said casually: ‘Must you? I want to go up to Umberleigh,’ he didn’t say why, ‘and I thought you might like to come along for the ride. I’m going to Holland next week, and taking Knotty with me, by the way. You could go to Chidlake then, couldn’t you?’
Tabitha hesitated. It was quite true, she could just as easily go the following week, and the prospect of a few hours in his company far outweighed the urgency of going to Chidlake. She said finally:
‘Well, all right. That would be nice, and as you say, I can just as easily go home next week. I can go on Tuesday, for there won’t be any theatre cases, will there?’ She sighed, remembering he wouldn’t be there on Tuesday. ‘I can drive over then.’
Marius said casually: ‘Why not?’ as he added the X-ray film to the others on the desk. ‘I’ll come for you about eleven, if that suits you. Now how about some coffee, and do you think you could get George down again? I think we had better put our heads together about Prosser.’
Tabitha wakened the next day to a sky covered by thick grey clouds jostling each other around on the wind. Probably it would rain; she put on a plainly cut peach-coloured linen dress and covered it with a raincoat, as Marius hadn’t said what they were going to do. She might as well go prepared for a tramp over Exmoor; she added flat suede shoes and tucked a headscarf in her pocket, just in case that was what he had in mind. As she did so the thought crossed her mind that it should have been Lilith who was going with him, but perhaps she was already in Paris, leaving him at a loose end. It was a pity that her own outings with Marius were confined to those occasions when there was no one else to bear him company. She voiced this opinion aloud to Meg, who looked shocked and said in an admonitory tone: ‘Now, Miss Tabby, that’s no way to talk about a nice gentleman like Mr van Beek, for there’s no need for him to take you out. He’s that handsome and well-to-do I daresay he could have any girl for the asking. You be glad he wants you for a friend, like I said before.’ She shook her head quite fiercely. ‘There’s the door now—that’ll be him. There’s a nice cup of coffee waiting, so bring him straight in, Miss Tabby.’
Marius seemed in no great hurry to get to Umberleigh, for once they were through Crediton, he turned off through Winkleigh and took to the byroads, winding round the country until Tabitha, who knew that part of the world well enough, enquired if he were lost.
He glanced at her and smiled. ‘No. How would you like to try out the car?’
She sat up straight. ‘Me? Drive your car? I’ve never even sat in a Bentley before I met you!’
‘That’s no reason for not driving it. Are you scared?’
‘Stop,’ said Tabitha in a goaded voice; she was already undoing her safety belt. ‘I’ll drive your car. If I smash it up I hope you won’t expect me to buy you another.’
He laughed and drew into the side of the road and they changed places. She found the Bentley surprisingly easy to drive and after the first few nervous moments she found she could handle the big car well enough. Marius let her drive several miles before he remarked: ‘Very nice. You use your head, Tabby—I should have no hesitation in going to sleep while you drove.’
High praise indeed; she accelerated slightly out of pure pleasure, although her voice was meek enough as she asked which way they should go.
They were at a crossroads; without hesitation Marius said: ‘Go through Burrington and then take the Chittlehampton road—I thought we’d lunch there.’
The High Bullen inn was noted for its good food; they ate truites flambés au Pernod, lamb Shrewsbury and Pêche Melba with a good claret to wash them down, while they talked of a great many things, but never once of Lilith, although Tabitha tried her hardest to bring the conversation round to this interesting subject. But each time Marius frustrated her because, she suspected, he had no intention of allowing her to ask any questions of a personal nature, although he seemed ready enough to talk about his life in Holland and his friends, even his boyhood, something which he had never enlarged upon before. It was after two o’clock when he said reluctantly:
‘I suppose we had better get on—I’m going to see an old patient of mine who lives near Umberleigh. I haven’t seen her for some time—you won’t mind if we stay a little while?’
‘No, of course not, but will your patient mind?’
They were running smoothly along a high-hedged lane. ‘I told her that you would be with me,’ his tone was casual. ‘I thought you might like to see the garden, it’s rather nice.’
The understatement of the year, thought Tabitha as he turned the Bentley through lodge gates and drove without haste across a miniature park.
‘Capability Brown?’ she enquired.
‘I believe so. He had a great eye for landscaping, didn’t he?’
They ran through a tunnel of rhododendrons and out into a wide sweep of drive before a stone-fronted house of some size. It had an elegant backing of trees and a gate at one side leading to the garden Marius had mentioned. The surroundings were beautiful even under the still stormy sky. They got out of the car and Tabitha said: ‘How heavenly! Shall I go into the garden while you see your patient?’
Marius smiled a little. ‘I think my patient would like to meet you—this isn’t a wholly professional visit, you know. We’re good friends too.’
They were admitted by an elderly maid, dressed very correctly in her black and white uniform, and conducted across a vast entrance hall to an even vaster drawing room, most elegantly furnished, and littered with what Tabitha took to be a large quantity of valuable silver and china. There was a small fire burning in the burnished steel grate and beside it sat an extremely fat old lady with a round face and beady black eyes. Her several chins rested on an old-fashioned boned collar and there was a magnificent diamond brooch fastening the rich black velvet folds of her dress. She looked up as they were announced and said in a clear voice like a little girl’s: ‘There you are, Marius. Come here so that I can have a good look at you.’
He advanced towards her chair and Tabitha, his compelling hand under her elbow, with him. He said pleasantly: ‘Hullo, Dolly. Lovelier than ever, I see, and not a day older.’
The old lady looked delighted. ‘What did you expect? I shall go on for ever.’ She suddenly produced a lorgnette from the vast array of chains and necklaces draped around her ample person and leveled it at Tabitha, who returned the scrutiny with polite interest.
‘May I present Miss Tabitha Crawley to you, Dolly? Tabitha—the Dowager Lady Riddleton, who has been my friend for a good many years as well as one of my patients.’
The old lady lowered the lorgnette. ‘Do you know about me, Miss Crawley?’
Tabitha shook her head. ‘No, Lady Riddleton, I don’t,’ and added quickly just in case Lady Riddleton should get mistaken ideas into her head: ‘I’m a ward sister working at the hospital where Marius operates…’ She stopped because the old lady’s face had creased into a thousand little folds as she began to chuckle, she drew breath long enough to say: �
�He told me,’ and went on chuckling. Presently she observed: ‘He’s a good surgeon, don’t you think?’
‘Yes, he is,’ said Tabitha.
‘And a handsome man too—I’ve no doubt you young women set your caps at him.’
Tabitha bristled and Marius said on a laugh: ‘Not Tabitha—she keeps hers firmly on her head. She’s got an idea she’s a plain girl, you see.’
Tabitha rounded on him, quite forgetting where she was. ‘Well,’ she breathed fiercely, ‘of all the things to say!’
‘That’s right,’ agreed her hostess, ‘I like a girl with spirit. I had plenty myself when I was young. Come here, gal, where I can see you.’
Tabitha looked around her rather wildly; the room was empty save for the three of them, and one glance at Marius’s face showed her that he wasn’t going to be of any use at all; in fact, he was enjoying himself. She gave him a cold look and stepped unwillingly forward to be subjected once more to a prolonged examination through the lorgnette.
‘Not plain at all,’ pronounced her ladyship. ‘Nice little chin, honest eyes, gentle mouth, plenty of hair—good figure too. She’ll still be getting admiring glances long after the chocolate box beauties have had their faces lifted.’ She paused to get her breath and Tabitha opened her mouth to give vent to her own feelings, but she had no chance. ‘Look at me,’ commanded Lady Riddleton. ‘Now I was plain and I still am,’ she gave a silvery little laugh, ‘but no one has called me “poor Dolly” in my life and though I’m turned eighty I’ve more friends than I can count.’ She leaned forward and tapped Tabitha’s arm with a podgy, be-ringed hand. ‘You thank God you’re no raving beauty, gal, then you won’t waste the years worrying about getting old and ugly—time is kind to our sort.’
She leaned back in her chair. ‘Pull the bell, Marius, we’ll have tea—you can look at my legs afterwards. Sit down, Tabitha—and that’s a good old-fashioned name. Marius tells me you’ve been on holiday in Veere. What did you think of his home?’ At Tabitha’s look of surprise she went: ‘Oh, yes, I know it well. We were there with our yacht when I had my accident ten years ago—it was Marius who saved my legs for me.’
