The Fateful Bargain

Sister Cook gave a regal nod. ‘Certainly, sir. You may go, Nurse.’

Emily went.

She had to wait until the evening, when she was about to go off duty, before Sister Cook sailed down the ward towards her. ‘Trouble on the way,’ warned a patient sotto voce. The patients liked her, she was such a scrap of a thing and yet nothing was too much trouble for her. She pinched out a cigarette from a patient’s hand and turned a calm face to her superior.

‘I smell smoke,’ declared Sister Cook, and cast a suspicious look around her. She allowed smoking on the ward, but only at hours dictated by herself.

‘It’s always rather smoky at this time in the evening,’ volunteered Emily in her calm way. ‘I suppose it’s all the chimneys and people coming home from work. Shall I close the windows, Sister?’

Sister Cook had a thing about fresh air, even though it wasn’t all that fresh in that part of London. She said no quite sharply and added, ‘I have a message for you, Nurse Grenfell. Mr van Tecqx will be outside your flat a half past eight in the morning. Don’t keep him waiting, Nurse. He’s a busy man.’

Emily was ready and waiting when she saw the car stop before her lodgings in the morning. She picked up her overnight bag, took a grip of Podge’s basket, and went down to the front door. Mr van Tecqx was on the step, searching in vain for a bell or a knocker. She wished him good morning politely and he said sharply, ‘For heaven’s sake stop calling me Sir with every other breath!’

She got into the car and watched him stow Podge on the back seat. ‘Why ever not?’ she asked him. ‘I’m expected to do so.’

‘Not by me, you’re not, not when we are away from Pearson’s. I must say I find it very tiresome having to ignore you or at best look through you when I’m on my rounds.’

A remark which surprised Emily so much that she stayed silent while he settled beside her and drove off. As though he had read her thoughts he went on, ‘If I were to show the least sign of interest in you, Sister Cook would pounce. In her eyes, consultants and student nurses don’t mix; the fact that they are men and women as well has no bearing on the matter from her point of view.’

Emily said, ‘Oh, yes,’ rather inadequately.

‘So next time I ignore you on the ward you will know why.’

She sought for a suitable reply and came up with, ‘Oh—really?’

She heard him sigh and sought for a topic of conversation. Manners mattered, her mother had always told her, and she had always tried to remember that. ‘Are you going to Dover?’ she asked.

‘No—I have friends in Biddenden.’

The silence lasted a little too long. Emily tried again. ‘The country around there is charming, and Biddenden is charming too…’

They were going down the A20 towards Swanley; the road was moderately free from traffic and Mr van Tecqx was driving fast. ‘Tell me about your father?’ he invited.

‘My father?’ repeated Emily stupidly. ‘What do you mean—what do you know about him? I never…’

‘My dear girl, I have ways of finding out the things I wish to know. How long has he been waiting for hip replacements?’

Emily ignored him. ‘What do you know about my father—how dare you snoop…?’

‘My dear girl, I never snoop—I have no need to do so. I had occasion to discuss a patient with your father’s doctor and in the course of conversation mentioned that you were a nurse at Pearson’s and that he might know you. He told me of your father’s condition.’

Emily cast him a quick look. His profile was calm, his voice had been uninterested, there was no reason to doubt his word. She said reluctantly: ‘I’m sorry. He’s been waiting for more than a year and it will be another year before there’s a bed for him.’

‘That is the National Health?’ asked Mr van Tecqx gently.

‘Yes.’ She hesitated. ‘As a matter of fact, I found out how much it would cost for him to be a private patient—it would save a year of waiting.’

‘So he will go privately?’

‘Well, yes…’

‘As soon as you have saved the money?’ Mr van Tecqx’s voice was so quiet she barely heard it.

‘Yes.’

He nodded. ‘Do you know your doctor’s number?’

‘Yes, of course.’

‘Then ring him up now on the car phone, will you, and ask him to meet us at your father’s house in—let me see—half an hour’s time.’

Emily made no move to do as he had asked. ‘Why?’

‘Let us not waste time. Your GP can call me in for consultation—I’ll have a look at your father and see what can be done.’

She said a little wildly, ‘But there are no beds—I asked. Two years, they said, and I haven’t saved enough money.’

‘The phone, Emily.’ His voice held a note she didn’t care to argue with. She did as she was bidden and then sat silent until they reached Eynsford.

‘You have to go up Sparepenny Lane and past the Tollhouse—it’s the row of cottages a bit further on,’ she told him.

Dr Mason was already there. Emily kissed her father, was greeted cheerfully by the doctor and introduced Mr vanTecqx, who nodded at the doctor, remarking that they were acquainted, and then shook hands with her father.

Her father was not in the least surprised to see him. Dr Mason, he explained to Emily, had arranged it all and he for his part was delighted. ‘Although I dare say I shall still have another year or two to wait, but just to be told by you, Mr van Tecqx, that there’s a possibility of success is a great encouragement.’

Emily, swamped in the unexpectedness of it all and vaguely suspicious at the same time, allowed her parent to suggest that she might go along to the kitchen and make coffee for everyone. ‘And don’t hurry back,’ begged Mr Grenfell. ‘We can manage very nicely.’

Emily gave Mr van Tecqx a speaking glance and did as she was told. Matters for the moment at least, were out of her hands.

There was plenty to do in the kitchen. She arranged a tray, ground the coffee and set it in the old percolator on to the gas stove. Mrs Owen had been that morning, for the dishes were washed and stacked neatly, but the sink needed a good scrub and her idea of cleaning the floor wasn’t Emily’s. Emily took off her outdoor things, donned an apron and set to work. She was washing her hands at the now pristine sink when her father called to her to bring in the coffee. She had got a little untidy as she worked, but beyond tucking a stray lock of hair behind an ear, she had no time for more; she bore in the tray which Mr van Tecqx took for her and set on the table under the window.

It was very vexing that the three men were discussing cricket and showed no sign of changing the conversation. She handed out cups, sugar and biscuits and sat composedly, seething inwardly. It seemed a long time before Dr Mason put down his cup and saucer, declared that he still had the rest of his patients to see and he would leave them all to make the arrangements. He shook Mr Grenfell’s hand, gave Emily a friendly pat on the back with the injunction to be a good girl, then shook hands with Mr van Tecqx. ‘Give me a ring when you’re ready and I’ll fix things this end. I’m greatly obliged to you, Sebastian.’

Emily, itching to hear what they had all been discussing, was momentarily diverted by the idea of Mr van Tecqx being called Sebastian. She wondered if his friends called him Seb and decided that they wouldn’t dare—he would fix them with a glare from the blue eyes which were almost always half hidden by heavy lids. She studied him from where she sat. He must be around thirty-five, she supposed; his fair hair had a good deal of silver in it…

He had turned his head to look at her and she went bright pink and looked away, wishing fervently that she didn’t blush so easily.

‘I must admire your patience, Emily.’ He came and sat down between her and her father. ‘I think we might operate on your father within the next week or so.’

She sat up very straight. ‘But I—where will he go? Sister said there wasn’t a bed for months…’ She looked at her father. ‘Father, do explain!’

‘Well, dear, I think Mr van Tecqx can do that better than I. I shall leave it to him.’

‘Ah, yes—Emily, if you will walk with me to the car we can settle matters easily enough.’

Out of her father’s hearing she said urgently, ‘I don’t understand, and there you were talking about cricket…it’s all very well stating you’ll operate. Don’t think I’m ungrateful, but you don’t understand—it’ll have to be private, of course, and the thing is I haven’t saved enough money—it will be at least four or five months, and you might not be here then.’

‘No, I shan’t. Your father can have a bed in a private hospital where I sometimes send patients, and I will operate there, and he can convalesce in a rest home—there is a good one just outside Richmond.’

Emily stopped herself just in time from wringing her hands. ‘But you don’t understand!’ They were standing by the car and she stared up anxiously into his face.

‘If you would just trust me, Emily. I have to go—I’m already late—but I shall come for you tomorrow evening and I will explain. There will be no question of fees, but I want to strike a bargain with you. More about that later.’ With which infuriatingly unhelpful remark he got into his car and drove off.

Her father was just as unhelpful, not meaning to be but wanting to discuss every aspect of the operation and what it would mean in the future.

‘I must say,’ he observed happily to Emily, ‘it’s extremely good of Mr van Tecqx to make an operation possible. It seems he has beds at his disposal at some private hospital and the opportunity to operate before he returns to Holland. I mentioned fees, but he said he’d come to some arrangement with you, my dear. I dare say you can pull a few strings with the National Health people?’ He gave a chuckle. ‘Nursing must have its perks!’

Emily agreed cheerfully. There was no point in voicing her doubts and it was really wonderful to see her father so happy.

It was impossible to worry all the time. She cooked and cleaned and shopped in the village, then went for a rambling walk to go home in the gathering dusk to cook their supper and feed Podge, and her simple chores soothed her so that by the time Mr van Tecqx arrived at the gate she was prepared to hear whatever it was that he wanted to say.

He had arrived earlier than she had expected—he had said he would fetch her in the evening, but it was barely four o’clock and she had just made the tea. Probably he had a date in town, she decided, and invited him to have a cup of tea which she assured him was ready, and she was also quite ready to leave.

When he had drunk his tea and eaten a good deal of the cake she had made he still made no move to go. Instead, much to Emily’s surprise, he suggested that she might accompany him on a brief walk. ‘There are things which I have to say to you,’ he concluded.

‘Oh, well—all right. But don’t you have to get back to town? I thought that as you were here so early…’ She faltered at the smile and amused look on his face.

‘Of course I have to get back—so do you; that’s why I’m here so early.’

He waited patiently while she got her coat, tied a scarf around her head and made sure that her father was comfortable, and then accompanied him down the path and into the lane.

‘Somewhere quiet?’ he suggested.

‘Down the lane to the end; there’s a bridle path we can take, it will bring us out on the other side of the Tollhouse—about twenty minutes or so.’

‘Excellent.’

He had nothing to say for a minute or so and she prompted him with, ‘You want to strike a bargain?’

He was walking at his own pace, so that she had difficulty in keeping up with him. ‘Yes. I’m prepared to operate upon your father—both hips—within the next week or two. Neither I nor the anaesthetist nor the private hospital where I propose he should be will require fees, although I do ask something in return. I have a young sister—the youngest of four—nineteen years old. She contracted polio last year and is making a slow recovery—too slow for her. She is impatient, given to bouts of rage and fits of depression. She is wearing my mother down, and a succession of nurses come and go with predictable rapidity. She needs someone of her own age, someone calm and kind and patient and at the same time firm. She is a dear girl, make no mistake, and she will make an almost complete recovery; but at the moment she has stopped trying; she needs something new to get her going again. Do I make myself clear?’

‘Oh, perfectly.’ They were walking along the bridle path side by side. ‘But, Mr Van Tecqx, I’m not trained—I have another year to do. I’m not free, even if I wanted to be.’

‘I can arrange that.’

‘I have no doubt of that,’ Emily’s voice was dry. ‘But what about me? Am I to start all over again once your sister is well again?’

‘No. I think it can be arranged that you will need to do only an extra six months to complete your training after you have done your third year.’

‘And if I don’t agree?’ She stopped to look at him. ‘You won’t operate?’

His voice was silky. ‘My sister is very dear to me, Emily, and I imagine that your father is also dear to you. It amounts to this: You will help me and I shall help you.’

‘Yes, but there must be dozens of nurses who would do just as well as I would.’

‘Probably. Do you know dozens of surgeons who are willing to operate upon your father? Just think, Emily; within a few months he will have the use of his legs again; he will be able to walk to the village, go for rambles, even get a part-time job if he wishes—drive a car…’

‘It’s blackmail,’ she said fiercely.

He agreed blandly. ‘What is more, you will have to trust me completely, Emily. I give you my word that everything needful will be done for your father and that when, eventually, you are ready to return to nursing, you will be given every opportunity to take your exams at the earliest possible moment.’

They had gained the lane once more and were passing the Tollhouse; in another five minutes they would be back at her home. ‘Podge,’ said Emily suddenly.

‘I have a housekeeper who looks after me when I am in London. Would you consent to her looking after Podge while you are away?’

‘He might run away.’

‘Mrs Twig will take great care of him. He is not a very adventurous cat, is he? He has known hard times and he isn’t likely to leave a comfortable home.’

She said sharply, ‘You make it all sound so easy.’

‘As it is.’ They had arrived back at the cottage and had paused outside its door.

‘How long will it take—the operation on Father and then his convalescence?’

‘He will be on his feet by Christmas.’

‘And your sister?’

‘That will depend largely on you. But you have my word that the moment she is able to cope with life once more, you shall return to England. You will, of course, be paid a salary; you will not suffer financially.’

Emily was back at her old habit of doing sums in her head. She wouldn’t need to touch her savings—once she got back home she and her father would be able to have a holiday, a decent one at a hotel with no cheeseparing, and she would be able to live at the hospital again. She drew a deep breath. ‘All right, I’ll do it.’

He held out a large hand and she put hers into it. Probably she would wake up in the night and regret what she was doing, but just at that moment the whole plan seemed very sensible and easy, and above all, exactly what she had hoped for for her father.

‘I shall operate at the end of next week; your father will have limited walking exercise after twenty-four hours, his stitches will come out after a week or ten days and he will be home again before three weeks. The joint should be normal at the end of three months. I’ll do the second hip then.’

‘Yes, but who’s going to look after him? I won’t be at home, will I? He can’t stay in the hospital for months!’

‘I know just the person to look after him. If you will agree, she can move in and look after your father. A retired nurse, middle-aged and a very good cook.’

‘But it will all cost so much—I mean, even without your fees.’

‘Ah, you forget, I shall deduct an agreed sum from your salary while you are looking after my sister.’ He smiled suddenly. ‘Trust me, Emily, I’m not offering you charity! You will pay for it—probably more than you bargain for—my sister won’t be easy. There is still time for you to change your mind.’

She shook her head. ‘I shan’t do that. You see, it’s something I’ve wanted so badly for a long time—to have my father back on his feet again. I’ll do my best with your sister, really I will.’

‘I know that. Shall we tell your father the plans? He will probably have plans of his own to work out.’

‘Yes, all right. Do you want to leave as soon as possible?’

‘Well, I was rather hoping that I might share your supper.’ He contrived to sound both hungry and lonely, ‘I’ll talk to your father while you cook.’

A couple of hours later, sitting beside Mr van Tecqx, being driven back to Pearson’s, Emily did her best to gather her scattered wits together into some sort of order. It all sounded so easy when he talked about it, but she saw snags at every turn. ‘Do I have to go to the office?’ she asked suddenly.

‘Eventually, but I will see the Senior Nursing Officer tomorrow morning; she will send for you, I dare say. You would like to stay till your father is home again, wouldn’t you? I can arrange for you to leave in about three weeks’ time, you will be able to see him settled with Mrs Philips. Don’t worry about getting to Holland; I will deal with that and then let you know.’ Emily stirred restlessly and he added quietly, ‘Just take one thing at a time, Emily.’

When they reached her digs, he got out of the car, took her overnight bag from her, opened the front door and went in with her. In the narrow hall with Mrs Winter’s door open a crack so that she could hear every word, Emily said hastily, ‘Thank you for the lift, Mr van Tecqx.’

‘I’m coming up, just to see you safely in.’ He had raised his voice deliberately, ‘You can’t manage Podge and your bag.’

He stood beside her in her room, taking in its shabbiness and not saying a word. But when he turned to go he paused and dropped a kiss on her cheek. She uttered a surprised goodnight to an empty room.

CHAPTER THREE

EMILY LAY AWAKE far too long, thinking about Mr van Tecqx’s kiss. It had been a chaste salute but a kiss nevertheless; she had a nasty feeling that it was because he pitied her living in a poky attic.

In consequence she had overslept, so that she had had to hurry over her dressing and sketchy breakfast, attend to Podge and then hurry through the streets to the Underground. The day went wrong from the start. Sister Cook was in a bad mood, finding fault with everyone and everything. Emily was off duty at five o’clock, but long before that she would have given a great deal to have bolted from the ward and rushed home to Podge’s undemanding company. It was mid-afternoon when Sister Cook sent for her.

‘You’re to go to the office at once,’ she stated. ‘I have no idea why, but it’s highly inconvenient. How I’m expected to run this ward with half the trained nurses for ever going to the office, I don’t know!’

Emily said meekly, ‘Yes, Sister,’ and sped away. Mr van Tecqx might have given Sister Cook a hint; now she would have to report back from the Office and explain why she was leaving. Her tired brain really couldn’t cope with it. She tapped on the SNO’s door and was bidden to enter.

The SNO was a good deal easier than Sister Cook. She appeared to find nothing strange in Mr van Tecqx’s request that Emily should leave within a few weeks in order to nurse his sister. Emily was not of course to know that the SNO was an old friend of his mother… She said, ‘Yes, Miss Webb!’ and ‘No, Miss Webb,’ when necessary and got herself out of the office. There were no obstacles put in the way of her leaving and she might return if she wished and finish her training, but she doubted very much if Sister Cook would see things in the same light. She went back to the ward, took a deep heartening breath, and tapped on Sister’s door.

Sister Cook was seated at her desk and Mr van Tecqx was leaning against a wall, looking what Emily could only think of as smug.

Sister’s voice, pitched fortissimo for most of the day, was surprisingly dulcet. ‘Ah—yes, Nurse Grenfell. Mr van Tecqx has been explaining to me that you’re exactly the nurse that he would wish for his sister. I’ve agreed that you should leave in two weeks’ time, and should you decide to return to finish your training here later on, I for one can see no objection.’

Emily didn’t look at Mr van Tecqx; he had obviously been laying on the charm, and pretty thickly too. She said, ‘Yes, Sister, thank you,’ in her calm way, and stood waiting to be told to go.

‘Mr van Tecqx tells me he has to make known his arrangements to you before he returns to Holland. You’ll go off duty at five o’clock punctually, Nurse Grenfell, so that you may be briefed.’

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