by Betty Neels
Victoria had accepted the change of subject with relief, although she liked to talk about Alexander as a change from thinking about him all the time. He hadn’t been mentioned again for the rest of her short visit.
It was towards the end of the second week that she noticed the change in Doctor Blake’s manner towards her. He had remained cool, naturally enough, after their unfortunate fracas in the corridor, but now she noticed that he was trying to present himself in a better light. At first it was on the ward; instead of his usual hectoring manner, he had become positively mild and so polite on occasion that she had wondered what had come over him. Then, when they had encountered each other outside the ward, his manner was one of careful friendliness, although he remained a little aloof in his dealings with her, as though he sensed and understood her suspicion. But Victoria was by nature a kind-hearted girl and quick to forgive; she found herself unbending towards him, so gradually that she hardly noticed it herself and certainly failed to notice the small, secret smile of triumph he occasionally directed towards her. The other staff nurses had noticed the change too, and she had to put up with a certain amount of lighthearted teasing which she took in good part because she entertained no feelings towards him at all and found it all rather amusing. It wasn’t until he asked her to go to the hospital Spring Dance with him that she realized that it wasn’t amusing at all, for he seemed to take it for granted that she would accompany him, and when she refused—nicely—his face became quite ugly with ill-humour.
They had met by chance in one of the hospital corridors, going in opposite directions, and Victoria had been on the point of continuing her way when he asked with a sneer: ‘You aren’t hoping that Dutchman will turn up, are you? Out of sight, out of mind with him, Victoria, and if you’ll take my advice…’
‘No, I won’t,’ said Victoria sweetly. ‘You’re talking a lot of nonsense and I can’t think why you should feel impelled to say all this to me. I haven’t decided if I’m going to the dance yet, but I’m pretty sure I shan’t. I’m sure if you look around you you’ll find someone who’ll be delighted to go with you.’
‘No one as beautiful as you, Victoria.’
She frowned thunderously. ‘Upon my word,’ she began wrathfully, ‘is that the reason you asked me? Of all the…’ She turned on her heel. ‘I’m going—I’ve a patient to fetch from OPD.’
She went on down the corridor, conscious that he was still standing where she had left him, staring after her. She would have to keep him at a distance, she thought angrily. It had been a mistake to accept his overtures of friendship, for he was so conceited that he had obviously imagined that she was more than ready to meet him halfway. She said loudly, ‘The fool!’ and met the shocked gaze of an old man sitting on one of the benches in OPD; he looked so put out that she felt compelled to stop and explain that it hadn’t been he whom she had maligned.
It seemed that all her friends were going to the dance; moreover, they were all mystified as to her reasons for not going herself. She had given the excuse that she would be on duty that evening until eight o’clock, which was very rightly pooh-poohed by her friends, for the dance wouldn’t get going until ten at the earliest, and when she put forward the suggestion that she had nothing fit to wear, her friend Judy from Children’s got up from the bed in Victoria’s room where they were, as usual, sitting, and wordlessly flung open the cupboard, allowing everyone there to see several dresses, all worthy of a hospital dance, hanging in it. And even to herself, Victoria refused to admit that the one and only reason why she wasn’t going was because Alexander wouldn’t be there with her, and no one else would do. She had done her best to forget him, or at least to think less of him, and it hadn’t worked at all, in fact, the reverse. ‘Absence makes the heart grow fonder’ seemed to have a considerable amount of truth in it, only it seemed it didn’t apply to everyone—everyone being Alexander.
She parried Sister Crow’s questions easily enough; that lady was going—it would be the last large hospital function she would attend before her retirement and she had no intention of missing it. She was full of the new dress she had bought for the occasion, and beyond expressing faint surprise and relief that Victoria didn’t want an evening off on the day of the dance, she had shown no curiosity as to why her staff nurse shouldn’t wish to go. As it was, Victoria saw the Old Crow off duty at five o’clock on the great day and returned to the evening’s work, if not with pleasure, at least with a kind of resigned highmindedness.
She had given out the medicines, sent the nurses to supper, with the exception of Beauty, and was doing a last-minute check to see that all her patients were as they should be when she turned her head to see Alexander in the ward doorway in deep, and judging from Beauty’s happy giggles, lighthearted conversation. She was at the Major’s bedside, and he, alert and keen-sighted enough when it pleased him to be so, remarked: ‘Ah, here’s the boy-friend, Staff—you’ll be going to the dance after all.’ A remark uttered so smugly that Victoria vowed instantly that wild horses wouldn’t drag her there. She was still looking put out when the doctor came quietly down the ward towards her. He wished the patients good evening as he passed them and enquired after the Major’s health before wishing her a good evening too, in a perfectly ordinary tone, just as though he had seen her several times that day already.
She had gone delightfully pink, but her ‘Good evening, sir,’ was as staid as the expression on her pretty face so that he smiled as he spoke.
‘Poor Victoria, I’m always taking you by surprise, aren’t I? But I did say I was coming back, or have you forgotten?’
They were standing in the middle of the ward, well out of range of the patients’ ears. All the same, it was a little too public for her. She said austerely: ‘No, of course I haven’t forgotten,’ and then, remembering where she was: ‘I’m sorry, but I’m on duty—was there something you wanted?’
‘You,’ he said promptly, and the smile he gave her sent her heart soaring. ‘I know you’re on duty, but dress up as quickly as you can when you get off duty, we’ll go and have a sandwich and then join the merry throng.’
Her heart was behaving in a most peculiar fashion. She willed it to calm down and opened her mouth to deny any desire to go dancing at such short notice, but he forestalled her with: ‘Yes, I know, dear girl, I’ve no right to come at a moment’s notice and spoil the nice quiet evening you intended to spend with a good book. I’ll apologise here and now on my knees if you wish.’ He paused and she saw with horror that he was prepared to do just that. ‘Don’t you dare!’ she hissed. ‘All right, I’ll be at the front door at—at…’ she did some swift calculating—‘just before nine o’clock.’
He nodded. ‘There’s my darling girl. I’ll go now, but tell me first why didn’t you intend going—weren’t you asked?’
‘Of course I was asked!’ She gave him an indignant stare.
‘Then why didn’t you choose to accept?’
She took refuge in a cool hoity-toity manner which set his eyes dancing wickedly. ‘I’m so sorry, doctor, but I must ask you to go now, I have quite a lot of work to do.’
‘Shades of Sister Crow,’ he murmured. ‘You’ll make a magnificent Ward Sister.’
He went back the way he had come, nodding easily to the patients and stopping once more, very briefly, to say a word to Beauty, still struggling with Mr Bray’s intake and output chart. Whatever he said cheered her up mightily, for she came trotting up the ward in her squeaky shoes, anxious and eager to help Victoria. They were straightening the newest arrival’s bed when she asked shyly: ‘Are you going to the dance after all, Staff?’ And when Victoria said a little absentmindedly—because she was deciding which slippers to wear—that yes, she was, Beauty went on to confide the marvellous news that she was going too.
‘Who with?’ asked Victoria, greatly intrigued.
‘Jimmy from the Path Lab,’ said Beauty, going a brilliant scarlet. ‘We’re friends.’
Victoria smiled at her kindly. �
�Now, that’s nice—he’s a clever boy, is Jimmy, and so kind if we’re late with specimens. I must remember to send you to the Path Lab more often, mustn’t I?’ and was rewarded by such a glowing face that her smile became even wider. ‘I hope you have a fab evening,’ she went on. ‘Now run and do the rest of the water jugs as fast as you can—the others will be back at any minute now, and you can go when they are.’
She watched Beauty squeak happily down the ward and turned to meet Mrs Briggs, the part-time staff nurse, an understanding soul, who, as soon as Victoria told her that she was going to the dance after all, plunged into the business of the report without any of the usual casual talk accompanying it, so that Victoria was speeding off the ward not ten minutes later.
It was amazing what a lot could be done in half an hour or so if one really put one’s mind to it. At the end of that period Victoria was kneeling before her dressing-table mirror in order to get a better view of her person while she looped her bright hair into a complicated style which, while taking an age to do, was well worth the effort. She had chosen her organza dress—a pale lime green with a pleated frill round its hem, long tight sleeves and a low-cut neckline. She stared into the mirror, making sure that there were no signs of the bruises she had received and was satisfied that there were none, then pushed her feet into gold slippers, sprayed herself liberally with Balenciaga’s Quadrille, picked up her purse and her cloak and flew downstairs, because it was already nine o’clock. At least, she flew until almost the bottom of the stairs and then, not wishing to appear too eager, descended the last few steps in an unhurried manner so that by the time she reached the door she was almost in control of her breath again, although at the sight of Alexander, very elegant in his dinner jacket, her breathing defied her once more. Pink-cheeked, her eyes sparkling, she could find neither words nor breath with which to greet him.
If he was aware of her breathlessness he made no comment upon it but said easily: ‘Good girl—I’ve got the car outside,’ and whisked her out of the Home and into the Mercedes and was driving through the gates into the stream of evening traffic before she asked: ‘Where are we going?’
‘There’s a place in Fleet Street. I thought we’d not better go too far.’
He had chosen well, for the restaurant wasn’t too far from the hospital and although it was comfortably full he had had the forethought to book a table. They were served promptly and Victoria, whose appetite had failed her during the past weeks, did full justice to the beef in red wine and the trifle which followed it. They followed the claret they were drinking with coffee and then, without waste of time, drove back to St Judd’s to join the dance. At first they didn’t talk very much, content to dance together, and even when Victoria was claimed by Sir Keith and Alexander partnered first Matron then Sister Crow, these interruptions didn’t seem to matter. It was while they were circling the ballroom in a sedate waltz—for the band had to cater for the older, more important guests as well as the younger, livelier ones—that Alexander asked:
‘What are you doing tomorrow?’
‘I have a day off.’ Victoria tried to make her voice sound offhand and failed utterly, she was too happy. ‘I’m going to Mrs Johnson’s.’
‘I’ll be outside at nine o’clock and take you there. Do you suppose she would mind very much if I took you out in the afternoon?’
‘No, I’m sure she wouldn’t. She’ll probably want you to stay to lunch!’
‘I hope she does. Do you like museums, dear girl?’
Victoria hadn’t quite expected that. She said carefully: ‘Yes, but not Egyptian mummies or bones or things like that.’
‘I promise there’ll be no bones. Tell you what, we’ll play safe and go to the National Gallery. I’m going back tomorrow evening.’
She had half expected that. She tilted her head back the better to look at him and found him staring down at her in a fashion which disconcerted her, it was so intense. Her voice was quiet. ‘Yes, I thought you might be. You never stay long.’
His hand tightened a little. ‘You miss me?’
Victoria lowered her gaze to his shirt front. ‘Yes.’
He didn’t answer and they danced in silence for a few minutes until he said softly above her head: ‘I wonder why our Doctor Blake looks so murderous?’
She had forgotten all about him. ‘He asked me to come to the dance with him.’
‘Ah—and I take it you refused him in no uncertain terms.’
The band stopped and they strolled to one of the deep windows and stood looking out on to the uninviting and gloomy walls, lighted dimly by the bare windows of the wards. They stood side by side while she told him about Jeremy Blake and how she had thought he was sorry for his behaviour. ‘But he’s not, you know, not really…’
The man beside her gave a chuckle. ‘I won’t insult you by advising you to keep him at arm’s length, Vicky. I daresay you’ll be able to rub along—it won’t be for long.’
‘Oh? Is he leaving?’
‘No, my darling, you are.’
Victoria opened her mouth to comment upon this surprising statement and thinking better of it, shut it again. The silence which followed seemed both deep and long so that she ventured: ‘Am I? I didn’t know.’
‘Liar,’ he remarked affably. ‘What a pity we’re in such a public place—we always seem to hold these interesting conversations at times when it is impossible to bring them to their logical conclusion.’
Victoria stared at the row of windows opposite them as though she had never seen them before and found them enchanting. She managed: ‘What conclusions?
‘Dear girl, I’m perfectly willing to kiss you here and now, in fact I can think of nothing I would rather do—the only reason I don’t is because I feel that you might not find it a good idea.’
She found herself laughing. ‘Alexander, you’re hopeless, and I never know when you’re serious…’
‘Deadly serious, my darling.’
She flashed a quick look at his face and saw that he was. ‘I think I’d like to dance again,’ she said hastily.
She was only five minutes late the next morning and that was because she had met Home Sister on her way down and been asked to take a message to one of the maids in another part of the Home. ‘Just my luck,’ thought Victoria as she raced down the stairs and catapulted through the door, ‘to meet Home Sister when there wasn’t anyone else in sight to take her messages—why couldn’t she have gone herself?’
Alexander was leaning against the car’s shining bonnet with his hands in his pockets. He gave her a friendly smile as she approached him and said mildly: ‘Hullo—what’s upset you? If I didn’t know you so well I might turn tail and run, you look furious.’
She smiled at once. ‘I’m not really. I got held up for a few minutes, that’s all, and I was afraid I’d be late and…’
‘I’d not wait?’ He opened the door for her. ‘Dear darling girl, you’re very unsure, aren’t you? I shall have to remedy that.’ He eased himself into the seat beside her. ‘How nice you look. No one would think that you’d been dancing until the small hours.’
He didn’t look as though he’d danced until the small hours himself, either, and he’d made a long journey before that too. ‘Don’t you get tired?’ she asked.
He looked faintly surprised. ‘Of course I do, after a heavy day, but I enjoy driving long distances and I like dancing with pretty girls too.’ He gave her a faintly mocking glance. ‘Or were you thinking that perhaps I can’t stand such prolonged activities at my age?’
Victoria looked astonished. ‘Your age? How absurd—you’re not old.’ She turned in her seat and looked at him carefully and her heart beat a good deal faster because she loved him so very much, and over and above that, he was remarkably good-looking. ‘I’m not sure how old you are,’ she said at length. ‘Thirty-two or three—you can’t be much younger because you’re a consultant and a lecturer—but you don’t look any older…’
‘I’m almost thirty-six, rem
ember? Do you find that too old, my darling?’
Victoria coloured brightly, when he gave her a sharp, sideways look she didn’t look away from his blue eyes. ‘No, I don’t.’ She smiled deliciously at him and then, at the gleam in his eyes, said: ‘No, it’s too public.’
He laughed then and switched on the engine and guided the Mercedes gently through the hospital gates. When he spoke again it was in a casual voice and about the dance.
Of course he was invited to lunch; they found Mrs Johnson in her little back garden, planting out stocks. She hailed them with delight.
‘I’ve two boxes of these and they have to go in today, so you’ll have to sit and watch me or go for a walk or something. Lunch will be at one.’
‘How about helping you?’ suggested the doctor cheerfully, and Victoria, disappointed, found herself on her knees, putting in stock plants with the meticulous care Mrs Johnson insisted upon. They stopped for coffee after an hour, sitting on the elegant wrought-iron furniture under the copper beech tree which took up the whole of one corner, and Alexander, looking up from where he was sprawled on the grass, remarked:
‘You should always sit under copper beech trees, Vicky, and wear a blue dress—you make a very pretty picture.’ And Victoria, to her annoyance, blushed for the second time that morning and smiled a little shyly at him, thankful that their hostess was so absorbed in her coffee cup.
Lunch was a gay meal; there was the dance to discuss and the dresses to describe, and Mrs Johnson didn’t once express surprise at Alexander’s sudden appearance in London—indeed, she seemed to take it for granted. After the meal she urged them to go out at once while the traffic was slack. ‘And tea’s at four o’clock,’ she added hospitably, ‘but don’t come back if you don’t feel like it.’
The doctor thanked her gravely. ‘In any case I shall see you again, I believe, for I shall bring Victoria back before I go.’
Mrs Johnson nodded briskly and ushered them out. ‘Enjoy yourselves,’ she advised them as Alexander started the car.
