Small Slice of Summer

In her room she flung a few things into an overnight bag, changed into the tan jersey cardigan suit with the shell pink blouse she had bought instead of eating properly that month, coiled her long hair neatly on the top of her head and, nicely made up, dashed out to catch a bus.

The Underground was crowded; she didn’t get a seat until the train had left Leytonstone, and it was a relief when she at last got out at Epping and went into the street. The crowds were a little less now, but the rush hour wasn’t quite over; track was still heavy coming from London. She was standing on the kerb waiting to cross the street when a group of people passing her unthinkingly shoved her off the curb into the path of the oncoming cars. She had a momentary glimpse of a sleek grey bonnet and heard the squeal of brakes as the bumper tipped her off balance. She fell, hoping desperately that her new out fit wouldn’t be ruined, aware as she fell that she had done so awkwardly and that her left ankle hurt most abominably. She had no chance to think after that, because Doctor Mourik van Nie was bending over her. ‘Well, I’m damned,’ he said, and then: ‘Does anything hurt? The bumper caught you and you fell awkwardly.’

Letitia sat up, glad of his arm, comfortably firm, round her shoulders. ‘I was trying to save my dress. It’s my ankle, otherwise I’m fine.’

A small crowd had collected, but the doctor took no notice of it, merely scooped her neatly off the ground and carried her to the car, where he sat her carefully on the front seat. ‘Let’s have a look,’ he suggested calmly, and slid her sandal off a decidedly swollen ankle. ‘A sprain, I fancy. Stockings or tights?’

‘Tights.’

He produced a pair of scissors from a pocket. ‘Sorry about this—I’ll get you another pair,’ he promised as he made a neat slit and cut the nylon neatly way above the ankle. He was reaching for his bag in the back of the car when the policeman arrived. Letitia sat back, listening to the doctor’s quiet answers to the officer’s questions, the eager chorus of witnesses, anxious to allow no blame to rest upon him, and her own voice, a little wobbly, giving her name and address and where she was going and why. By the time things had been sorted out the ankle had been firmly bandaged and her head was beginning to ache. She didn’t listen to what the doctor said to the policeman—indeed, she barely noticed when he got in beside her and started the car; she was suddenly sleepy. The car was comfortable to the point of luxury; she closed her eyes.

They were almost at Dalmers Place when she woke up again; she recognized the road almost at once. ‘I was going to my aunt in Epping,’ she began worriedly. ‘My days off, you know.’

‘You went to sleep—the best thing for you. Does she expect you?’

‘No.’

‘Then there’s nothing to worry about. I’m taking you to Dalmers Place. You’re a friend of Georgina, aren’t you—and Julius? They’ll be delighted to put you up for the night.’

She turned to look at him, quite shocked. ‘Oh, you can’t do that—invite me there without them knowing, whatever will they say? If you’d stop…oh, dear, we’ve gone through Bishop’s Stortford, haven’t we? Could you go a little out of your way to Saffron Walden? There’s a station there—I could get on a train back to Epping.’

‘Hopping all the way? Don’t be absurd. Besides, I feel responsible for you—I knocked you down.’

‘But it wasn’t your fault, and really I can’t allow you…’

He interrupted her in a placid voice. ‘Dear girl, what a mountain you are making out of this little molehill! And you know that you’re dying to get to bed and nurse that painful ankle.’

She had to laugh a little then and he gave her a quick sideways glance and said: ‘That’s better,’ and a moment later slowed the car to allow Mr Legg, who did the garden and lived in the lodge at Dalmers Place, to come out and open the gate for them, and then drove, still slowly, up the short, tree-lined drive to the house where he stopped before its door, told her to stay where she was, got out, and went round the side of the house.

Georgina looked up as he reached the terrace. ‘Hullo,’ she greeted him cheerfully. ‘We were just beginning to wonder what had happened to you.’

‘I’ve brought someone with me, I hope you won’t mind—it’s Tishy.’

He was quick to see the quick look his friends exchanged and went on smoothly, ‘I could take her on…’ to be cut short by Georgina’s fervent: ‘No, Jason—we’re delighted, really, only Julius and I were talking about her—oh, quite casually,’ she avoided her husband’s twinkling eye, ‘and it’s funny, isn’t it, how when you talk about someone they often turn up unexpectedly. Where have you left her?’

‘In the car. She sprained her ankle—I knocked her down.’

Georgina was already leading the way. ‘Oh, how unfortunate!’ she exclaimed, meaning exactly the opposite. She glanced at Julius over her shoulder and when Jason wasn’t looking, pulled a face at him. ‘But we must thank Providence that it was you, if you see what I mean.’

CHAPTER TWO

LETITIA SAT in the car, feeling a fool. Her ankle throbbed, so did her head, and she had been pitchforked into a situation which had been none of her doing. Probably Georgina would be furious at having an unexpected guest at less than a moment’s notice. True, she had been to Dalmers Place before, but only in the company of her sister Margo—it was Margo who was Georgina’s friend. She sought feverishly for a solution to her problem and came up with nothing practical, and when the three of them came round the house and crossed the grass towards the car, she found herself studying their faces for signs of annoyance. She could see none; Georgina was looking absolutely delighted and her husband was smiling, and as for Doctor Mourik van Nie, he wore the pleased look of one who had done his duty and could now wash his hands of the whole tiresome affair.

Georgina reached the car first. ‘Tishy,’ she exclaimed, ‘you poor girl—does it hurt very much? You shall go straight to bed and the men shall take another look at it—you look as though you could do with a drink, too. Thank heaven it was Jason who knocked you down and not some stranger who wouldn’t have known what to do.’ She paused for breath and Letitia said quickly: ‘I’m awfully sorry—I mean, coming suddenly like this and being so awkward.’ Her eyes searched Georgina’s face anxiously. ‘You don’t mind?’

‘Of course not, it’ll be fun once that ankle stops aching.’ She stood aside while Julius said Hullo in a welcoming way and Jason said matter-of-factly: ‘I’ll carry you in.’

‘I can hobble, I’m sure I can.’

He grinned. ‘I shouldn’t bet on that if I were you.’ He had opened the car door and swept her carefully into his arms. ‘Which room?’ he asked Georgina.

‘Turn left at the top of the stairs, down the little passage, the second door.’

Letitia wondered if the doctor found her heavy; apparently not, for he climbed the staircase at a good pace and with no huffing or puffing, found her room without difficulty and sat her down in a chair. ‘Georgina will help you undress,’ he told her with impersonal kindness, ‘and we’ll come back later and take another look at the ankle.’ He had gone before she could frame her thanks.

Half an hour later she was sitting up in bed, nicely supported by pillows and with the bedclothes turned back to expose her foot; by now the ankle was badly swollen and discoloured. The men came in together with Georgina and Letitia wasn’t sure whether to be pleased or not when neither gave her more than a cursory glance before bending over the offending joint, which they agreed was nothing more than a partial tear of the ligament and hardly justified an X-ray. ‘We’ll strap it,’ they told her. ‘You’ll have to rest it for three or four days, then you can start active use—a couple of weeks and you’ll be as good as new.’

‘A couple of weeks? But I’ve only got two days off!’ She was appalled at their verdict.

‘Sick leave?’ suggested Doctor Mourik van Nie. He sounded positively fatherly.

She stared at him; they were all being very kind, but she was spoiling their evening. She said quickly: ‘If I could go back to St Athel’s with you in the morning—there’s a list at nine o’clock, isn’t there?—I could see someone. That’s if you wouldn’t mind taking me.’

He gave her a long considered look and she felt her cheeks grow red.

‘No, I won’t take you, you silly girl. Georgina has already said that you’re to stay here until Julius pronounces you fit to travel, and that won’t be for a few days.’

‘Of course you’ll stay,’ chimed in Georgina warmly. ‘I shall love having you; these two are driving up to Edinburgh at the weekend, to some meeting or other, and I wasn’t looking forward to being alone one bit. And now I’m going to see about your dinner, you must be famished.’

‘And I’ll telephone St Athel’s,’ Julius suggested, and left the room with his wife, leaving Doctor Mourik van Nie lounging on the side of the bed.

‘That’s settled,’ he commented, and smiled at her, and for some reason she remembered that he had smiled that afternoon when he had come upon her and Mike.

‘You’re all very kind,’ she said crossly, because her head still ached, ‘but I don’t like being a nuisance.’

He got to his feet so that she had to tilt her head to look up at him.

‘My dear girl,’ he said, and his voice was bland, ‘the sooner you stop imagining that because one man said you were—er—old-fashioned, the rest of us are villains and you’re a failure, the better. I’m surprised at you; you seem to me to be a sensible enough girl, and when you smile you’re quite pretty.’

He strolled to the door. ‘You’ll feel better in the morning,’ he assured her as he went out.

Letitia stared at the shut door; probably she would feel much better in the morning, at the moment she felt quite sick with surprise and temper—how dared he talk to her like that?—it was possibly these strong feelings which caused her to burst into tears.

She was wiping her eyes when Georgina came back, and she, after one quick glance, made some thoughtful remark about delayed shock and proffered the glass of sherry she had brought with her. ‘Dinner in half an hour,’ she said cheerfully, ‘and Julius says a good night’s sleep is a must, so he’s coming along with a sleeping pill later on.’

Letitia sipped the sherry. ‘I’ve never taken one in my life,’ she protested, and then remembering what the Dutchman had said, added meekly: ‘But I will if he says so.’

She felt a lot better after her dinner and better still after a long night’s sleep. Indeed, she woke early and lay watching the sun gathering strength for another warm day, and she heard the car drive away too. That would be Doctor Mourik van Nie, she supposed, and she felt an unreasonable pique because he hadn’t come to inquire how she felt, but of course she wasn’t his patient, only an unfortunate incident at the end of a long day.

She sat up in bed, wincing a little at the pain in her ankle, and thought about him, willing to admit, now that it was morning and she was feeling better, that he had been quite right even if a little outspoken, the previous evening. She had been sorry for herself, she admitted that now, although she hadn’t much liked being dubbed as sensible, but he had said that she was almost pretty when she smiled. She smiled now, remembering it, and turned a beaming face upon the maid who presently tapped on the door with her early morning tea.

The day rolled along on well-oiled wheels; the house came alive, breakfasted, and settled down to the morning. Julius came early, examined the ankle, pronounced it to be going along nicely and left Georgina to help her out of bed and into a chair by the window and presently they all had their coffee there, with Polly playing happily and baby Ivo asleep in his cot. It was when Julius got up to go to his study that Letitia asked a little diffidently if he had telephoned the hospital.

‘Did I forget to tell you? You are to stay here until I consider it all right for you to travel, and it has been left to me to decide if you need a week off after that.’

She was unaware of how plainly her thoughts showed on her face. ‘Home for a few days?’ suggested Georgina, reading them correctly. ‘One of the men can take you up to town and drop you off at the station…’ She stopped and smiled, looking so pleased with herself that Letitia was on the point of asking why, but Julius spoke first, to say that he would be back very shortly and carry her down to the garden. ‘Far too nice a day to stay indoors,’ he pointed out kindly, and when she thanked him, adding that she hoped she wasn’t being a nuisance, he went on: ‘Of course not—we’re treating you as one of the family, Tishy, and Georgina’s delighted to have your company while we’re away, and in any case, just to prove how much we take you for granted, I’m driving her to Saffron Walden very shortly. Nanny will be here with the babies, of course, and Stephens will bring you your lunch and see that you’re comfortable. You don’t mind?’

He had struck the right note; she felt at ease now because she wasn’t spoiling their day after all. ‘Of course I don’t mind—it will be super doing nothing. You’re both so kind.’

Julius went away and Georgina smiled and offered to get a rather fetching housecoat of a pleasing shade of pink for her guest to wear. Letitia put it on, admiring the fine lawn and tucks and lace. It had a pie-frill collar and cuffed sleeves, and looking down at her person, she had to admit that lovely clothes did something for one…‘I can leave my hair, can’t I?’ she asked. ‘There’s no one to see.’

Her kind hostess bent down to pick up a hairpin. She said: ‘No one, Tishy,’ hoping that Providence, already so kind, would continue to be so.

The day was glorious. Letitia, lying comfortably on a luxurious day bed, leafed through the pile of glossy magazines she had been provided with, ate a delicious lunch Mrs Stephens had arranged so temptingly on the trays Stephens carried out to her, then closed her eyes. It was warm in the sun; she would have a crop of freckles in no time, but it really didn’t matter. She had spent a lot of money she really couldn’t afford on a jar of something or other to prevent them, because Mike had told her once that he thought they were childish. Thinking about it now, she began to wonder exactly what it was about her that he had liked. Whatever it had been, it hadn’t lasted long. She remembered with faint sickness how he had told her that she wasn’t pretty. ‘Not even pretty,’ he had said, as though there was nothing else about her that was attractive. She frowned at the thought and pondered the interesting question as to what Doctor Mourik van Nie would find attractive in a girl. Whatever it was, she felt very sure that she hadn’t got it. She dozed off, frowning a little.

She woke up half an hour later, much refreshed, and saw him sitting in an outside garden chair, his large hands locked behind his head, his eyes shut. She looked at him for a few seconds, wondering if he were really asleep and why was he there anyway; her watch told her that it was barely half past two; theatre should have gone on until at least four o’clock. Perhaps, she thought childishly, he wasn’t really there; he had been the last person she had thought about before she went to sleep—he could be the tail end of a dream. She shut her eyes and opened them again and found him still there, looking at her now. ‘You’ve got freckles,’ he observed, and unlike Mike, he sounded as though he rather liked them.

‘Yes, I know—I hate them. I bought some frightfully expensive cream to get rid of them, but it didn’t work.’

‘They’re charming, let them be.’ His voice was impersonal and casually friendly and she found herself smiling. ‘I thought theatre was working until four o’clock today.’

‘It was, but at half past twelve precisely some workman outside in the street pickaxed his way through the hospital’s water supply. Luckily we were on the tail end of an op, but we had to pack things up for the day. Do you mind if I go to sleep?’

She felt absurdly offended. ‘Not in the least,’ she told him in an icy little voice, and picked up a magazine. Unfortunately it was Elle and her French not being above average, looking at it was a complete waste of time; even the prices of the various way-out garments displayed in its pages meant nothing to her, because she couldn’t remember how many francs went to a pound.

‘You’re a very touchy girl,’ observed her companion, his eyes shut, and while she was still trying to find a suitable retort to this remark:

‘Am I right in suspecting that this—what’s his name—the Medical Registrar was the first man you ever thought you were in love with?’

She sat up and swung her legs over the side of the daybed. ‘I won’t stay here!’ she exploded. ‘You have no right…you don’t even know me…ouch!’

She had put her injured foot to the ground and it had hurt. The doctor got out of his chair in a patient kind of way, lifted the stricken limb back on to the daybed, said: ‘Lie still, do—and don’t be so bird-witted,’ and went back to his chair. His voice was astringent, but his hands had been very gentle. ‘And don’t be so damned sensitive; I’m not a young man on the look out for a girl, you know. I’m thirty-five and very set in my ways—ask Julius.’ He closed his eyes again. ‘I’m ever so safe, like an uncle.’ There was a little pause, then he opened one eye. ‘I like that pink thing and your hair hanging loose.’

Letitia had listened to him in amazement and a kind of relief because now she could think of him as she thought of Julius; kind and friendly and big brotherish. Two short months ago, if Mike had said that, she would have been in a flutter, now it didn’t register at all—at least, she admitted to herself, it was nice that he liked her hair. She took a quick peep and was disappointed to see that his eyes were closed once more.

He wasn’t asleep, though. ‘Where is your home?’ he asked presently.

She cast Elle aside with relief. ‘Devonshire, near Chagford—that’s a small town on Dartmoor. Father’s the rector of a village a few miles on to the moor.’

‘Mother? Brothers and sisters?’ His voice was casually inquiring.

‘Mother and four sisters.’

His eyes flew open. ‘Are they all like you?’

She wasn’t sure how to take that, but she answered soberly: ‘No, they’re all pretty. Hester—she’s the second eldest—is married, so’s Miriam, she comes after me, and Paula’s the last.’

‘And where do you come?’

‘In the middle.’

‘And your eldest sister—Margo, isn’t it? She’s George’s friend?’

‘Yes, they trained together. Margo’s away on holiday. She’s going to get engaged any day now.’

He opened an eye. ‘I always thought,’ he stated seriously, ‘that the young lady about to be proposed to was suitably surprised.’

Letitia giggled, and just for a few moments, in her pink gown and her shining curtain of hair, looked, even with the freckles peppering her nose, quite pretty, so that the doctor opened the other eye as well.

‘She and Jack have known each other ever since she was fifteen, but he went abroad—he’s a bridge engineer, so Margo has gone on working while he got his feet on the ladder, as it were, and now he’s got a marvellous job and they can buy a house and get married.’

‘And you will be a bridesmaid at the wedding, no doubt?’

‘Well, no—you see, we drew lots and Miriam and Paula won. It’s a bit expensive to have four bridesmaids.’

The corners of his firm mouth twitched faintly. ‘I daresay two are more than ample. I have often wondered why girls had them.’

She gazed at him earnestly as she explained: ‘Well, they make everything look pretty—I mean, the bride wants to look nicer than anyone else, but bridesmaids make a background for her.’

‘Ah, yes—stupid of me. Do you set great store on bridesmaids, Letitia?’

She was about to tell him that she hadn’t even thought about it, but that would have been a colossal fib; when she had imagined herself to be in love with Mike, her head had been full of such things. ‘I used to think it was frightfully important, but now I don’t imagine it matters at all.’

‘You know, I think you may be right.’ He heaved himself out of the chair and stretched enormously. ‘I’m going to get us a long cool drink and ask Stephens if we can have tea in half an hour. Can I do anything for you on my way?’

She shook her head and sat back, feeling the sun tracing more freckles and not caring. She wasn’t sure what had happened, but she felt as though Jason Mourik van Nie had opened a door for her and she had escaped. It was a lovely feeling.

The drinks were long and iced and he had added straws to her glass. She supped the coolness with delight and exclaimed: ‘Oh, isn’t this just super?’ then felt awkward because he might not find it super at all.

‘Very.’ He was lying back again, not looking at her. ‘Do you suppose you could remember to call me Jason? I call you Tishy, you know, although on second thoughts I think I’ll call you Letitia, I like it better.’

‘Mother always calls me that, but they call me Tishy at the hospital, and sometimes my sisters do too when they want me to do something for them.’

They had their tea presently in complete harmony and she quite forgot to wonder where Georgina and Julius had got to, and when Nanny came out with Ivo in his pram and Polly got on to the doctor’s knee, she lay back, listening to him entertaining the moppet with a series of rhymes in his own language, apparently quite comprehensible to her small ears. She watched him idly, thinking that it was pleasant doing nothing with someone you liked. She gave herself a mental shake; only a very short time ago she hadn’t liked him, but when she tried to remember the exact moment when she had stopped disliking him and liking him instead, she was unable to do so. Her thoughts became a little tangled and she abandoned them when Jason broke in on her musings with the suggestion that she might like to recite a nursery rhyme or two and give him a rest. She had got through ‘Hickory, Dickory, Dock’ and was singing ‘Three Blind Mice’ in a high sweet, rather breathy voice when Georgina and Julius joined them and the little party became a cheerful gossiping group, with Ivo tucked in his mother’s arms and Polly transferred to her father.

‘Ungrateful brat,’ remarked Jason pleasantly. ‘Letitia and I are hoarse with our efforts to amuse her and now she has no eyes or ears for anyone but her papa.’

‘You got back early?’ Georgina asked, and smiled a little.

Jason repeated the tale of the workman and his pickaxe and everyone laughed, then the men fell to making plans for their trip on the following day until Jason said: ‘I’ll carry Letitia indoors, I think, she doesn’t want to get chilled.’ He got up in leisurely fashion. ‘Where is she to go?’

‘The sitting-room—we’ll have drinks, shall we? No, better still, take her straight up to her room, will you, so she can pretty herself up, then you can bring her down again.’ Georgina looked at Letitia. ‘You’re not tired, Tishy?’

‘Not a bit—how could I be? I’ve been here all day doing absolutely nothing. It’s been heavenly, but I feel an absolute fraud.’

‘Until you try to stand on that foot,’ remarked Jason, and picked her up. ‘Back in ten minutes,’ he told her as he lowered her into the chair before the dressing table in her room and went away at once. She barely had the time to pick up her hairbrush before Georgina came in. ‘Don’t try and dress,’ she advised, ‘or do anything to your hair,’ and when Letitia eyed her doubtfully: ‘You look quite all right as you are.’

She went away too, so Letitia brushed her hair and creamed her freckles and sat quietly, not thinking of anything very much until Jason came to carry her downstairs again.

The evening was one of the best she could remember, for she felt quite at ease with Georgina and Julius, and as for Jason, his easy friendliness made her oblivious of her appearance and she even forgot her freckles. She reminded herself that two months ago, out with Mike, she would have been fussing about her hair and wondering if her nose were shining and whether she had on the right dress. With Jason it didn’t seem to matter; he hardly looked at her, and when he did it was in a detached way which didn’t once remind her that her hair was loose and a little untidy, and her gown, though charming, was hardly suitable for a dinner party. He carried her up to bed presently and before he left her took a good look at her ankle.