An Innocent Bride

‘The nerve of him,’ said Katrina to herself, clashing cups and saucers together, and then spun round.

‘Nerve is something which the medical profession have to employ from time to time, Katrina. You don’t mind if I call you Katrina?’ he said mildly. ‘You don’t look like a Miss Gibbs. I came back to ask if there is a bigger spade?’

‘In the shed.’

He went away again, and she put everything in the sink and went up to her room. She wasn’t going to change her dress, for it was apparent to her that he couldn’t care less what she wore, but she changed her old sandals for a better pair and attacked her mane of hair, subduing it to tidiness and a neat coil in the nape of her neck. She powdered her face too, and used lipstick, took a quick look at herself in the little mirror on the dressing table and went downstairs.

She was spooning cat food into a bowl for the little cat when the professor joined her. He noted the lipstick, and the tidy head of hair, but all he said was, ‘What is your cat’s name?’

‘Betsy.’

She put the saucer on the floor for the small creature and said, ‘Had I better come and look?’

He had made a very good job of it. Moreover he had managed to remain as elegant as he had been when he arrived. She thanked him warmly, forgetting how much he vexed her for the moment, and when he asked her if she was ready to leave said that she was, quite meekly. ‘Only I must just open the window in the kitchen so that Betsy can get in and out.’

They went out together, and he locked the door and put the key above it out of sight. ‘At what time shall your aunt return?’

‘She is to spend the day with the Peterses, so soon after tea, I suppose. Supposing she comes back earlier and I am not here?’

‘We will worry about that when it happens.’

Getting into the car, she asked, ‘Where do you live? In London? We’ll never get there and back…’

‘I live in Wherwell—a village south of Andover. I go to and fro to town; it’s an easy drive.’

It was a matter of thirty-five miles or so, and the big car swallowed them effortlessly. Beyond a casual remark from time to time the professor didn’t speak, and Katrina was glad of that as she tried to look into the future.

Of course she had always known that Aunt Thirza wouldn’t live for ever, but she had dismissed such thoughts from her mind as morbid. Her aunt had always seemed the same to her: brisk and matter-of-fact, full of energy, with a finger in every village pie. And as to her own future she had taught herself not to dwell too much on that. She was twenty-four, and the years she might have spent at university and later in some worthwhile job had slipped away, just as her chances of meeting a man who would want to marry her were slipping away.

Indeed, she knew very few young men, and they were either on the verge of marriage or already married. There had been men who had shown an interest in her, of course, but Aunt Thirza had frightened them off, though not intentionally.

She was roused from her thoughts by the professor observing that Wherwell was round the next bend in the country road, and she looked around her.

She fell in love with it immediately. There was no one around and the place drowsed in Sunday calm, the charming houses lining the street grouped round the church like a chocolate box picture.

When he stopped outside his own front door she got out slowly and stood looking around her.

‘You live here?’ she asked, and blushed because it was such a silly question. ‘Such a beautiful house. You’re married, of course, and have children?’

He didn’t speak for a moment, looking down his splendid nose at her, and the blush, which had been fading, returned with a vengeance.

‘I am not married, nor do I have children. There is, of course, always that possibility in the future.’

‘I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked you that. It’s none of my business.’

‘No. It isn’t. You feel that the house is wasted on me?’

‘No, no. It’s so beautiful—and the garden…’

‘Yes. I enjoy the garden; the house has been in the family for a long time.’

Peach had opened the door, gravely welcoming his master and then, when he was introduced to Katrina, shaking the hand she offered. A nice young lady, he thought, a sight nicer than that Mrs Carew. Widow she might be, and handsome enough, but never so much as wished him good day. If ever she managed to marry the professor Peach felt in his bones that he and Mrs Peach would be in for a rough time.

He said now, ‘The dogs are in the garden, sir.’ And indeed their barks made that evident enough. ‘Would you and Miss Gibbs like coffee?’

‘No, thanks, Peach, we’ve had it. May we have lunch in half an hour or so?We have to go back in a couple of hours.’

‘I’ll tell Mrs Peach. Would the young lady like to refresh herself?’

The professor eyed Katrina. ‘She looks all right to me.’

He lifted eyebrows at Katrina, who said coldly, ‘Thank you, not at the moment.’

‘Good. We’ll be in the garden, Peach.’

He walked her down the hall and out of the door at its end, to be met by Barker and Jones. Katrina offered a fist to Barker. ‘He’s beautiful,’ she said, and scratched the top of his sleek head, and then bent down to do the same for Jones.

‘Why Jones?’ she asked.

‘We are not quite sure, but we suspect that there may be Welsh blood in him. A trace of Corgi.’

‘They’re friends?’

‘Oh, yes. Jones is Barker’s faithful follower!’

He led the way along a garden path to a gazebo over looking a pool fed by a small rivulet emerging from a clump of trees at the end of the garden. Katrina sat down and looked about her. The garden wasn’t formal; it was like a large cottage garden. In full summer, she supposed, it would be full of old-fashioned flowers. One side sloped downhill to the kitchen garden, with high walls, thatched like the house, and on the other side there was a wide green path bordered by flowerbeds. She gave a sigh of content.

‘Will you tell me what I must do to help Aunt Thirza? And what sort of treatment she is to have.’

‘That is my intention. Bad news is never as bad if it is given in the right surroundings, is it? Now sit still and don’t interrupt…’

He didn’t try to make light of the matter, but neither was he full of gloomy forebodings. ‘We must take each day as it comes. Your aunt may fail so slowly that it is barely noticeable; on the other hand she may die without any warning. If you can accept that, it will help you. Don’t stop her from doing what she wishes to do. I think that she is someone who would dislike being an invalid, but try and discreetly curb her activities as much as possible. Dr Peters will be keeping an eye on her and will keep you up to date. Now, as to diet…’

Katrina listened carefully, and the thought crossed her mind that perhaps she didn’t dislike him after all. She didn’t like him, but only because she knew nothing about him, and she was grateful to him…

The professor glanced at his watch, whistled the dogs, and they went back to the house to have lunch. Aunt Thirza wasn’t mentioned again. Instead he led the talk to Katrina’s own interests, slipping in questions about her life so that by the time they left the table he had a very good idea of it. And pretty dull too, he reflected, watching her pour coffee into the delicate porcelain coffee cups. She might be buried alive in the country, but she had the potential for a career of some sort. He asked abruptly, ‘How old are you, Katrina?’

‘Twenty-four. Don’t you know it’s rude to ask a girl how old she is?’

‘I stand corrected. Unfortunately it is a question I have to ask all my patients—it has become a bad habit.’

‘Oh, well, I don’t mind. How old are you, Professor?’

He laughed, and she thought that he looked ten years younger. ‘Thirty-nine. Middle-aged.’

‘Rubbish, no one is middle-aged these days. You were fifteen when I was born…’

‘You had a happy childhood, Katrina, for those first twelve years?’

She nodded. ‘Yes.’She wanted to ask him if he had been happy as a boy, but she didn’t dare. She mustn’t allow herself to get too friendly with him, although she didn’t think that there was much fear of that. He would never allow it.

Presently he said, ‘We should be going,’ and she got to her feet at once, anxious not to outstay her welcome.

‘It was kind of you to ask me to come here,’ she told him. ‘I hope I haven’t spoilt your day.’ And, when Peach came into the hall, she said, ‘Will you tell Mrs Peach that lunch was lovely? I wish I could cook like that.’

Indeed it had been lovely. Potted shrimps and brown bread and butter, cut wafer-thin, rack of lamb with tiny new potatoes, and rhubarb fool to follow with clotted cream. The professor certainly lived well. Sitting beside him in the car, she wondered if he earned a great deal of money, and thought he probably did. Dr Peters had said that he was highly regarded, and of course it must cost a great deal to train as a doctor. She voiced her thoughts out loud.

‘Does it cost a lot of money to train as a doctor?’

If he was surprised by her question he didn’t show it.

‘Yes, but it isn’t only the money; it’s the years of hard work.’

‘Have you been a doctor for a long time?’

‘I qualified when I was twenty-three…’

‘But you took more exams, I expect?’

‘Any number.’

‘But you’ve got there, haven’t you? I mean, to the top of your particular tree?’

‘Perhaps, but there is always something more to learn.’ He glanced at her. ‘Have you ever wished to train for a profession, Katrina?’

‘Oh, yes. You know how it is when you leave school; you’re full of ideas. But I’m happy with Aunt Thirza, and I’d hate to live in a town—a big town.’

He drew up outside the cottage, got out and opened her door. The little house looked charming in the afternoon sun, and Betsy was sitting by the door, waiting for them. He took the key from its hiding place, unlocked the door and they all went in.

Katrina let out a breath. ‘How awful if Aunt Thirza had been here. Whatever would I have told her?’

‘Oh, I would have thought of something feasible before you had a chance to blurt out the truth. Shall we have tea?’

‘Is there time?’She was putting the kettle on the gas ring as she spoke. She suddenly didn’t want to be left alone with her thoughts.

They drank their tea presently, not saying much and not mentioning Aunt Thirza either, and soon the professor got into his car and drove away. Katrina had thanked him for her lunch, for digging the garden, for his advice, and he had put up a large hand and begged her to say no more, so that she had the lowering feeling that she had been too effusive.

But she had other things to think about. While she got the supper ready she went over everything that the professor had told her; she mustn’t forget a word of it…

Aunt Thirza returned, full of good spirits, and Dr Peters stayed for a while, chatting about their day. ‘We must do it more often,’ he observed. ‘You and Mary have much in common, and she’s absolutely delighted that you’ve agreed to help with the church bazaar.’ He glanced at Katrina. ‘I suppose you’ll be expected to give a hand, Katrina?’

‘I’m behind the scenes this year, cutting sandwiches and serving teas.’

Over supper Aunt Thirza was full of plans. ‘I do so enjoy the summer months,’she explained. ‘Such a lot going on—fêtes and bazaars and tennis tournaments, and I hear that the church school is putting on a play at the end of term. More than enough to keep us busy.’

She put down her knife and fork. ‘I had such a splendid lunch I’m really not hungry. Did you get the digging done?’

Katrina said that yes, she had. Well, it wasn’t quite a fib put that way. ‘There’s still a lot to do. Everything’s growing nicely, though. We need some rain.’

It was surprising how difficult it was to talk about mundane things when what she really wanted to do was to fling her arms round her aunt and have a good howl.

The days slipped away in the orderly routine which Aunt Thirza had established when she retired and had no intention of altering. Katrina did her best to check the old lady’s more active interests, but it wasn’t easy. Indeed, Aunt Thirza had remarked once or twice that anyone would think that she was ill.

‘Those pills I take will soon put me back on my feet,’ she observed. ‘There are any number of things which I wish to do this summer.’

Since there was no gainsaying her, Katrina gave up urging her to eat the tasty meals she cooked, and drink the milk Dr Peters had told her would improve her condition, although she managed in a dozen ways to take over more of the household chores, pointing out that her aunt was busy enough with the various functions being organised.

But Aunt Thirza wasn’t getting better. Katrina could see that she was paler and easily tired, although she would never admit it, and Dr Peters had told her that her latest blood test showed no improvement.

‘But it’s not worse?’

He said cautiously, ‘Let us say that it is no better.’Which to Katrina’s ears didn’t sound like an answer at all.

They were to go to St Aldrick’s very shortly. Aunt Thirza had had a letter from the professor’s secretary, asking her to attend his clinic.

‘You’ll come with me,’ said Aunt Thirza, ‘and if he doesn’t keep me hanging around for too long we will have a look at the shops. I need some new teatowels—John Lewis will do nicely.’

It was already warm by the time they set out, and when they reached the hospital Aunt Thirza was tired and ill tempered.

‘This is nonsense,’ she told Katrina. ‘I’m sure there is no need for Professor Glenville to see me again. I feel perfectly well except for this tiredness, and that’s to be expected when you are as old as I am.’

‘You’re only seventy-something,’Katrina reminded her. ‘I dare say this will be the last time, just to check that everything is going according to plan.’

She sat quietly and wondered if she would see the professor. It seemed unlikely, for it wasn’t a social call and there were rows of patients for him to see. Her aunt was one of many, and she wondered again just how eminent he was. What did he do in his free time? He had hinted that he might marry, so he would spend his evenings with whoever it was he intended to marry. Did they go dancing, she wondered, or dine at some marvellous restaurant? Or did she go home with him and spend the evening eating Mrs Peach’s delicious dinners?

A nurse called her aunt’s name and Katrina watched her disappear down the short corridor lined with doors. The professor’s room was the nearest. She glanced at her watch. They had been waiting for more than half an hour and her aunt would be fifteen minutes or so. If they were to go to the shops they would have to catch a later train.

Aunt Thirza came back, some twenty minutes later, her back poker-straight, looking annoyed. She marched out with Katrina hurrying to keep up with her.

Outside, on the pavement of the busy street, Katrina said, ‘What has he told you,Aunt, something to upset you?’

Her heart gave a sickening thump. Surely her aunt hadn’t asked an outright question, demanded the truth?

‘He says I must come here again in three weeks’time. It seems the anaemia isn’t responding to treatment. It sometimes happens, he told me, and I must have patience. It may take a little longer than he had hoped. I have to get more pills from Dr Peters.’She smiled suddenly. ‘Last time I was here we mentioned the garden, and he said he had noticed that there was a small moss rose under the window, not doing too well. He has to come our way on Sunday and he asked if I would accept a rose bush—he has several in his garden and will need to discard a few. He’ll come for coffee.’

‘How kind,’ said Katrina, wondering just why he was doing that, and planning to bake a batch of her almond biscuits which sold so well at village functions. The news wasn’t good, but hopefully she would get the chance to ask him what exactly was happening. Surely there was something, some treatment—a blood transfusion—to halt her aunt’s illness.

‘Well, don’t look so glum,’said Aunt Thirza, once more her brisk self. ‘He’s rather nice. Now, let’s get a bus to Oxford Street.’

CHAPTER THREE

THE teatowels were bought, and furnished a splendid excuse to roam around John Lewis, looking at the latest goods on show.

‘What a good thing that we live in the country and don’t need to dress up,’ said Aunt Thirza, leading the way to the restaurant. And Katrina, with a last lingering look at the pretty clothes she was never likely to possess, followed her. They didn’t mention the professor over their sandwiches and coffee, and Katrina, seeing her aunt’s tired face, declared that she had a splitting headache and would Aunt Thirza mind awfully if they caught the earlier train home?

On Sunday morning Katrina got up early to make the almond biscuits, set a tray with the best china and the silver spoons, fed Betsy, and then took a cup of tea to her aunt. Her suggestion that her aunt might like her breakfast in bed called forth a snappy response. Breakfast in bed was only for those too lazy to get up, who should be ashamed of themselves, or in case of necessity—illness, or a broken leg or something similar. ‘And I’m not hungry—just tea and toast. I’ll be down in half an hour.’

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