by Betty Neels
‘It was delightful—I shall remember it while I’m away.’
‘Oh yes.’ She felt bereft. ‘Birmingham and Edinburgh.’
He nodded without speaking and after a moment she put out a hand.
‘Well, goodbye, Alexander. I hope you have a good trip. I don’t know Birmingham, but Edinburgh’s beautiful and there’s a lot to see.’
‘You know it? So do I—I’ve an Edinburgh degree.’
He was still holding her hand and when she pulled on it gently he merely tightened his grip and said: ‘I shan’t have much time for sightseeing, I must get back to Holland as soon as possible.’
‘Yes, of course.’ She made her voice sound coolly friendly, for after all, what was theirs but a casual meeting? And this time he let her hand go. She said, maintaining the coolness with difficulty: ‘Well, goodbye, and thank you again,’ then whisked through the door and across the hall and out of sight of him.
If Victoria wanted to forget him, she had no chance; her friends, during the next few days, saw to that, for they wanted to know every detail of her evening with him and then fell to discussing him at length and often, and when Tilly had exclaimed: ‘He turns me on,’ Victoria had felt a pang in her chest which was almost physical and no amount of reasonable thinking could dispel him entirely from her thoughts. After the first day or so she managed to convince herself that he had gone for good. There must be girls enough for him to choose from if he wanted an evening out; probably he had forgotten her already—a sensible thought which did nothing to dispel a sense of loss which bewildered her. She worked a little harder in order to get rid of it and when Doctor Blake invited her to go to the cinema with him, she accepted, although she wasn’t really keen on going.
Jeremy Blake had behaved well, rather to her surprise, for he struck her as being a young man conceited enough to expect a quick conquest of any girl he cast his eyes upon, but beyond an attempt to hold her hand in the cinema which she parried without difficulty, he did nothing to which she could take exception, and when she was bidding him goodnight at the door of the Nurses’ Home with a rather brisk thank you, he had been equally casual. She had gone up to her room convinced that she had been mistaken about him after all—he was really not too bad and certainly not the wolf she had suspected.
His behaviour bore out her opinion during the subsequent days—he was friendly in a casual way both on the ward and when they met outside it, and when Ellen, the night staff nurse and one of Victoria’s closest friends, remarked one morning after she had given the report that she didn’t fancy him at all, Victoria had felt impelled to defend him.
‘He’s quite nice,’ she remarked. ‘I didn’t think I was going to like him, but he’s quiet and just friendly.’
Ellen sauntered towards the door. ‘As long as he stays that way,’ she said darkly.
It was two days later that he asked Victoria to go out with him again and she refused. Afterwards she didn’t know why she had done so, for he had proved a pleasant enough companion when they had gone to the cinema. Perhaps it was because he had suggested that they should go to a little club he knew of in Chelsea and dance that she had refused so promptly. He had said nothing, only shrugged his shoulders and said carelessly: ‘Another time, perhaps,’ but his eyes had seemed paler than ever even though he was smiling.
She hardly thought about him during the day; they were busy and although he came on to the ward several times, the only speech they had was to do with the patients.
She met him on the way off duty that evening. Men’s Medical was on the top floor, reached by a bleak corridor of the narrow, dreary type so beloved by mid-Victorian architects of hospitals. It ran through most of the wing and then turned at right angles to continue on its way to an equally bleak staircase. It was depressing, with margarine-coloured walls and mud-coloured linoleum, polished to within an inch of its life. Victoria was perhaps halfway down this miserable passage when Jeremy Blake appeared around the corner ahead of her. He was walking very fast and she supposed him to be on his way to the ward, but when he drew level with her he stopped suddenly and caught her round the waist.
‘And what do you think you’re doing?’ she demanded in a voice chilled with angry surprise.
‘Oh, come off it, Vicky, you don’t have to play the little lady with me.’
He laughed at her and for answer she attempted to remove his hands, but he only went on laughing and pulled her closer. ‘We could have fun together.’
‘I can think of nothing less likely,’ she retorted indignantly. His face was only inches from hers and although he smiled his eyes glittered and his mouth looked mean. ‘Let go!’ she ordered him furiously. ‘I don’t want to go out with you, I said so and I meant it, and I certainly wouldn’t want to go out with you again or have anything more to do with you!’
She lifted a capable hand, doubled into a fist, and pummelled his chest.
‘Playing hard to get?’ he wanted to know. ‘Shall I tell you something, girlie? I always get a bird if I want her, and here’s something on account.’
His face was very close. Victoria lifted a foot, neatly shod in its hospital regulation lace-up, and kicked his shin, and he loosened his hold. In a flash she was away, making for the bend in the passage. Once round it the stairs would be in sight and there might be someone about…
He caught up with her a couple of feet from the corner and clamped his hand on to her shoulders and forced her to a halt, turning her around to face him, but not without difficulty because she was a strong girl, then putting a hand under her chin to force her face up to his. ‘You spitfire,’ his voice was soft and unpleasant, ‘now you’ve fooled about enough!’
She couldn’t move her head, his hand was too strong. ‘I’ll scream!’ She spoke with spirit and stopped at his smile.
‘And a lot of good that will do you—you see, I shall say that I found you hysterical on my way to the ward, and you won’t stand a chance, my dear. I’ve done it before and it always works…’ He broke off, his smile frozen.
‘Er—so sorry to interrupt,’ said Doctor van Schuylen gently from somewhere behind her left ear, ‘but I think you’ve got it wrong, my dear fellow.’
Victoria felt his hand, gentle and strong, on her waist and the next moment she had been whisked to one side, allowing the doctor just enough room to knock Doctor Blake down, having done which he dusted his hands off carefully, turned his back on the prostrate form and said with an air of calm, ‘Hullo’. The smile he gave her was so kind that she would have liked to have burst into tears, but before she could do so he went on: ‘I wondered if we might go out to dinner—somewhere gay where we can dance.’ He was walking her round the corner and down the stairs as he spoke, and at the bottom Victoria stopped and put out a hand to touch his well-tailored sleeve almost timidly.
‘I must explain,’ she began, but was stopped by his quiet voice.
‘Not a word, Victoria, or I might be tempted to go back and knock the fellow down again.’
She was very sure he meant it. ‘Are you angry? He’ll be all right, won’t he?’
She felt it was a foolish question, but he stopped then, right outside Women’s Surgical where one of the Office Sisters was taking the report from Sister Kennedy. He said simply: ‘Yes, I’m angry, but don’t worry, I have an excellent control over my temper and he’s not much hurt, I believe.’ He smiled at her and she found herself smiling back. ‘I’ll be very quick,’ she assured him. ‘What time will you come for me?’
He looked at his watch. ‘Seven sharp—I must go back to the hotel and put on a black tie.’ He took her hand and held it for a moment in his and didn’t let it go when the Office Sister walked towards them. She wished them a civil good evening, looking at them with purposeful vagueness which Victoria found rather touching. She liked Office Sister, who was a widow with grown-up children, so that she treated the nurses rather in the same manner as she would have used towards her own children, and was loved for it.
When she
had gone, Alexander gave her back her hand. ‘I’ll come with you as far as the Home,’ he stated calmly. ‘Do you mind where we go this evening?’
Victoria shook her head. She would have been quite happy sitting in a Wimpy Bar with him for the whole evening. At the Home door she tried to thank him again and he said: ‘No, Victoria, there’s no need to say any more— I’m only sorry I wasn’t there a few minutes sooner.’
She had her hand on the door handle. ‘I kicked him on the shin,’ she observed with belated satisfaction.
She was looking at him as she spoke and he smiled: ‘That’s my girl!’
Victoria went on staring at him. That was exactly what she was and she had only just discovered it. His girl—for ever and ever and nothing could change that. She had often wondered what it would feel like to fall in love—really in love—and now she had, suddenly. It left her bewildered and uncertain and wildly happy. She gave him a dazzling smile, repeated ‘Seven o’clock’, and went through the door.
CHAPTER THREE
VICTORIA wasted ten minutes just sitting on the edge of her bed. For part of that time she didn’t even think, only allowed her head to fill with delightful fairy stories with happy endings, but these gradually faded before common sense. That she was in love with Doctor van Schuylen she didn’t dispute, but whether he felt the same about her was another matter. She was a pretty girl, but there were other girls just as pretty—moreover, he had two countries to choose from—there might be someone in Holland. And although he had come to her aid just at the right moment that evening, he would probably have done just the same for the Old Crow. She was momentarily diverted by the picture of Sister Crow repulsing Jeremy Blake, then felt mean, because the poor Old Crow must have been rather pretty when she was young—and then allowed her thoughts to return to her own problems. She would find out during the course of the evening if he was staying in London—she did a little arithmetic on her fingers; he had been gone for six days, surely time enough to go to Edinburgh as well as Birmingham, but perhaps he was on his way to Holland. It was a depressing thought, but there was nothing much she could do about it. She went to run a bath, dismissed her gloomy speculations and allowed herself to dwell on the coming delights of the evening.
She wore the prettiest dress she had—peacock blue silk with a wide skirt and great leg o’ mutton sleeves gathered into long narrow cuffs fastened with pearl buttons; its small bodice had little pearl buttons marching down its front too, and its scooped-out neckline was exactly right for the pearl necklace her parents had given her for her twenty-first birthday. Victoria fastened it with care, got into her slippers, caught up her velvet evening cape and handbag and hurried downstairs. It was exactly seven o’clock. She slowed down in the hall. Perhaps she shouldn’t have been quite so punctual, it made her look so eager, and now she felt shy as well. She put a hand up to her hair to make sure it was securely pinned and went to the door. Alexander was waiting there and she was glad of the dim light in the hall because the sight of him, elegant and very much at ease in a dinner jacket, made her feel almost giddy.
He helped her into the car and got in beside her. ‘I’m glad you’re on time,’ his voice was casually friendly. ‘I thought it would be nice to go through the parks—there won’t be much traffic about.’
‘Yes,’ she was annoyingly breathless, ‘that would be pleasant.’ She watched the large hands on the wheel as he started the car. ‘When did you get back?’ she asked, ‘and was it successful?’
‘This afternoon about half past four, and yes, I believe it was tolerably successful—a pooling of ideas, you understand—it’s amazing what we can learn from each other.’
They were travelling slowly through the muddled East End traffic and when he pulled up to allow a transport wagon to come out of a side street she said: ‘Alexander, I went out with Jeremy Blake last week—to the cinema.’ Even as she said it, it sounded silly in her ears. Why should she tell him she had been out with Jeremy? After all, she was free to go out with whom she pleased.
She caught his quick smile. ‘I went out too—with one of the secretaries, a nice girl.’
‘Was she pretty?’
He inched the car forward. ‘I don’t remember,’ he spoke quietly and she knew that he meant it. ‘I was lonely; I wanted to telephone you, write to you, even get into the car and come back and see you.’
She glowed. ‘Oh, I was lonely too, that’s why I went out with Jeremy. I thought it might pass the time.’
His voice was gentle. ‘Why are you telling me this, Victoria?’
She had no idea, she was appalled when she thought about it; being in love with him had gone to her head and she was behaving like an idiot. She said in a stiff little voice: ‘It—it just came into my head. It’s a change from talking about the weather, isn’t it?’ And heard his chuckle even though he most annoyingly didn’t answer her.
They didn’t speak again until he turned the car into Hyde Park, to draw up presently and switch off the engine. He turned to look at her then and she saw the approval in his eyes and the admiration. ‘Delightful,’ he told her in his pleasant voice, ‘and you smell like a flower garden.’
Victoria smiled a little; she had felt wildly extravagant in Guernsey buying such a large bottle of Roger et Gallet’s Jeu d’Eau, and wished now that she had bought an even larger size. She wondered with pleasurable excitement what he was going to say next and was keenly disappointed when he asked: ‘You don’t mind if I smoke?’
‘Please do,’ she achieved the two words with a commendable sweetness and watched him go about the business of filling and lighting his pipe which he did with deliberation. It was only when he had got it going to his satisfaction that he spoke again.
‘I’ve been looking forward to this,’ he remarked, an observation which Victoria found difficult to answer although she longed to tell him that she had been longing to see him too. She was startled when he asked: ‘Have you?’
She opened her little brocade bag and closed it again before she said carefully: ‘Well, I couldn’t look forward to something I didn’t know was going to happen, could I?’
He gave her a long look. ‘You knew that I should come back.’
She opened her bag again, looked at its contents and closed it. ‘Yes, I think I did.’
‘You know you did.’
How persistent the man was! ‘All right, I knew,’ she reiterated, quite put out. Her fingers were on the bag again when his hand came down to cover hers. His voice was gentle. ‘Don’t be scared, dear girl.’
Victoria looked at him then, her eyes wide. ‘Scared? I’ve never been scared of anyone yet, least of all you.’
‘I’m glad, although that isn’t quite what I meant.’ He smiled, a wholly friendly smile, and took his hand away. ‘How’s the ward?’ he asked, and she switched back to the safe gossip of her daily life almost thankfully, then listened while he told her about his trip to Birmingham.
It was almost dark when he knocked out his pipe and said: ‘How about our meal? I’ve booked a table for eight o’clock.’ He started the car and she sat quietly beside him, thinking how like him it was not to mention anything about the unfortunate episode in the corridor. Briefly she wondered if Jeremy Blake was hurt and then forgot all about him, for they had stopped outside the Ritz Hotel and Alexander was helping her out and saying easily: ‘We can have a drink first, if you’d care to.’
She had never been to the Ritz before. She agreed to meet him in the bar and went away to repair the ravages of sitting in the car for a half hour or so. She re-did her face a little, inspected her person, tidied her hair and concluded, rightly, that the dress suited her and that her appearance was as immaculate as it was possible to be. She swept into the bar presently and was rewarded by the discreet stares of several gentlemen of whom she was only vaguely aware, because Alexander was coming to meet her.
They drank Pernod and talked about their childhood and Alexander, for the first time, told her a little about himself, sh
e was so engrossed that it seemed an annoying interruption when the waiter came to tell that their table was ready. They had eaten their hors d’oeuvres when they decided to dance. Victoria, who danced very well, discovered that Alexander danced well too; as the evening wore on, what with the wine she had drunk with the sole which followed the hors d’oeuvres, and the fillet steak which came after that and the delightful surroundings, the band and above all, Alexander’s company, Victoria was very happy indeed. It was while they were dancing towards the end of the evening that he told her that he was going away the following day, and the happiness was swallowed by an aching lump in her throat which rendered her speechless. After a few moments she achieved: ‘Oh, are you?’ It was rather muffled because she had spoken into his shirt front—presently she would be able to look at him and smile, but not yet.
‘To Edinburgh,’ he continued. ‘I shall be gone for a week. I shall be staying the night in London on my way back to Holland. Could you get a week’s holiday?’
Victoria looked at him then. ‘A week’s holiday,’ she repeated, bemused.
‘Yes—I’m coming back to England in two weeks’ time—I have to go home for a week first. I thought we might go over to Guernsey—your people will be there?’
She managed to say ‘Yes’, and added doubtfully: ‘I don’t think I can get a week—it’s a bit soon, but I shall be due a weekend…’
‘Splendid.’ He looked his usual calm and placid self; his voice was placid too, but there was a gleam in his eyes which completely melted the lump; she smiled widely and he said rather quickly: ‘And now supposing we finish our dinner?’
They ate Pesche Ripiene—peaches stuffed with macaroons and almonds and candied orange peel, soaked in wine and baked and as a last delight, treated to a touch of Cointreau. Victoria hadn’t eaten it before; it seemed exactly right for her happy mood. She gobbled it up daintily and said: ‘Do let’s dance again,’ and when they were on the floor, ‘Where will you stay?’
