Sun and Candlelight

‘Who was that lazy-looking type you were with last night?’ he wanted to know.

She hadn’t expected him to ask, not now when they were so busy. She said shortly: ‘Someone who very kindly saw me back—you owe him for the bill—he paid it.’

He stared at her with angry eyes. ‘If you imagine I’m going to pay for your dinner, you’re mistaken—and you found someone easily enough to pick you up, didn’t you?’

‘Hardly that,’ said Mr van Diederijk. He had come quietly through the curtains and was standing just behind them both. ‘I don’t make a habit of picking up young women, nor, for that matter, do I leave them to pay for their own dinner.’ His voice was quiet, but—there was a sharp edge to it so that Alethea judged it prudent not to say anything at all and Nick, trying to bluster his way out of an awkward situation, said too quickly: ‘This is hardly the time or the place…’

‘Too true, I’m glad you realise that,’ agreed Mr van Diederijk equably.

‘Who are you?’ began Nick, and stopped as Sir Walter slid his bulk round the curtains in his turn.

‘My dear chap,’ he boomed cheerfully, ‘nice of you to come along. This leg—if you can call it that at the moment—it seems to me that you’re just the man to consult. A classic example of the kind of thing you excel in, I believe—wiring, I should imagine, and then intensive osteopathy to the femur to prevent muscle contraction—am I right?’

The question was rhetorical; Sir Walter was very well aware that he was right. Alethea said nothing, Nick muttered some answer or other and Mr van Diederijk agreed placidly.

‘Yes, well, in that case, since we are agreed and you happen to be here I’d be delighted to have the benefit of your skill. A pity that you and that brother of yours don’t have a clinic over here, but I daresay you get all the work you can cope with.’

‘Indeed, we do. I shall be delighted to give any assistance I can.’

‘Good, good. Sister, we’ll have him in theatre in half an hour, please. Have you written him up, Penrose? Yes? Very well, check on that boy I’ve just done in theatre, will you—and I shall want you for this case. Sister, is there anything worrying you or can you cope?’

‘Mr Cord’s plaster has had to come off—it’s being replastered now—I got Mr Timms to see to it. Mr Briggs is… I’ve sent for his wife. The boy you operated upon during the night is satisfactory—there’s nothing else, sir.’

‘Good girl. Lean heavily on Timms if you need help and if that’s not enough, give the theatre a ring.’

‘Yes, sir. Would you like coffee?’

‘Yes. Mr van Diederijk will too, won’t you, Sarre?’

The big man inclined his head gravely. ‘We are not delaying Sister?’

‘Me?’ she smiled at him, forgetting her rather pale unmade-up face and screwed-up hair. ‘No, not at all. Mary, our ward maid, will have the tray ready, she’s marvellous.’

She led the way down the ward and into her office, saw the two gentlemen served and then excused herself. The boy had to be got ready for theatre and over and above that, the routine work of the ward mustn’t be halted.

When she went back to her office presently for an identity bracelet the two men had gone and presently the porters came and Alethea, sending her most senior student nurse with him, despatched the patient to theatre, before turning her attention to the work waiting for her. She had the time now to wonder at the sudden and unexpected appearance of Doctor van Diederijk; had he taken up an appointment at Theobald’s? She frowned and shook her head as she adjusted the weights on Tommy Lister’s pinned and plated leg, suspended from its Balkan Beam. No; she would certainly have heard about that, and yet he knew Sir Walter. Staying with him, perhaps? Over in England for some seminar or other? Now she considered the matter, he looked well-established, as it were, self-assured in a quiet way, and wearing the beautifully tailored garments which proclaimed taste and money, however discreetly. Perhaps he was someone important in his own country—and hadn’t Sir Walter said something about a clinic and a brother? She let out a great sigh of frustrated curiosity and Tommy, who had been watching her face, asked: “Ere, Sister, wot’s got inter yer? Yer look real narked.’

‘Me? Go on with you, Tommy. Who’s coming to see you this afternoon?’

‘Me mum. When am I goin’ ’ome, then, Sister?’

‘Not just yet—I can’t bear to part with you.’ She laughed at him then, patted his thin shoulder, told him to be a good boy, and went on her way. He shouldn’t have been in the ward at all, but Children’s was full, as usual, and there was no point in trying to move him there even if there was a bed free, the business of moving him and his paraphernalia would have been just too much. Besides, the men liked him, he had a sharp cockney wit and he was always cheerful.

The day wore on. The boys who had been admitted during the night were picking up slowly; the patient of that morning had come back from ITU only half an hour since, still poorly, and his mother, fortified with cups of tea in Alethea’s office, had been able to sit with him for a few minutes. The boy had made a brave show for that short time before, his anxious parent gone, Alethea gave him an injection to send him back into the sleep he needed so badly.

The ward was settling down into its early evening routine and she was due off duty when Nick came again. He had been down already to check Sir Walter’s patients, but beyond giving him any information he had asked for, they had nothing to say to each other, but this time, after a quick look at his charges, he didn’t leave the ward but followed her into the office where she was writing the bare bones of the report, so that Sue, due on in ten minutes or so, would have a little more time to get finished before the night staff appeared. She sat down at her desk and picked up her pen and gave him an enquiring look.

He hadn’t bothered to shut the door and he was in a bad temper. ‘Look here,’ he began, ‘I still want to know how you came to pick up that fellow.’

She eyed him calmly although her heart was thumping enough to choke her, and despised herself for longing for him to smile just once and say that everything was all right again, that he hadn’t meant a word he had said…

‘I didn’t. He saw you leave and I suppose he guessed that I might not have had enough to pay the bill—and I hadn’t—you might have thought of that. I don’t know what I should have done if he hadn’t helped me.’ She paused. ‘Nick—do we have to quarrel…’ She hadn’t meant her voice to sound so anxious; she caught at the tatters of her pride and was glad of it when he snapped: ‘Quarrel? I’m not quarrelling, I’ve other things to do than waste time on a prissy girl like you…’

‘I cannot agree wholly with you,’ remarked Mr van Diederijk from the open door. ‘Indeed, if there were the time, I would suggest most strongly that you should eat your words, but it is true that you are wasting your time, Mr—er—Penrose; they are looking for you in the Accident Room, I believe.’ He glanced at Nick’s bleep which he had switched off and now switched on again with a muttered grumble, not looking at anyone. And when he turned to go out of the door, Mr van Diederijk made no effort to move. ‘A quick apology to Sister?’ he suggested with a smile which Alethea, watching fascinated, could only describe as sunny, and Nick, furious, turned again and mumbled something at her before brushing past the other man. When he had gone there was silence for a few moments; Alethea was fighting to regain her calm and her companion seemed happy enough just to stand there, looking at the various notices pinned on the walls.

Presently Mr van Diederijk asked gently: ‘Off duty, Sister?’

She wanted to pick up her pen, but her hand was shaking. All the same she achieved a very creditable: ‘In about ten minutes or so, sir.’

‘Then may I beg you to take pity on me and come out to dinner?’ He sighed loudly. ‘London can be a lonely place for a foreigner.’

She was in no state to care what she did or where she went; she supposed that she might just as well go out with him as spend the evening in her room, which was what she had intended to do. All the same, she was too nice a girl to make use of him. ‘You might enjoy yourself better on your own, I’m not very good company,’ she pointed out.

He shrugged huge shoulders. ‘We don’t need to talk unless we want to.’ He smiled suddenly. ‘Anyway, it might be better than spending an evening in your room, without your supper.’

Her fine eyes flew to his face. ‘How did you know…?’ and when she saw that he wasn’t going to answer her question: ‘Well, thank you, yes, I’d like to come.’

‘Good. Half past seven at the entrance, then?’ He turned as Sue came in, wished her good evening, passed the remark that he mustn’t interfere with the giving of the report, asked if he might take a quick look at the boy who had been operated upon that morning, and went quietly away.

‘He’s nice,’ breathed Sue. ‘I could go for him in a big way. He’ll be married, of course, the nice ones always are.’

‘I don’t know,’ said Alethea, not particularly caring. ‘Everything’s fairly quiet; you’ll need to keep an eye on that boy and the two who came in last night, I gave them some dope at five o’clock, but they’ll need another lot to settle them. They’re written up PRN and Mr Timms will be down before eight o’clock, so let him know if you’re not happy. As for the rest…’

She plunged into a quick account of what had happened since Sue had gone off duty at dinner time, put her desk tidy and stood up to go off duty herself. It had been a horrid day, thank heaven it was over. Not quite over, though; she still had the evening to get through, but perhaps in Mr van Diederijk’s restful company it would go swiftly. She sighed as she made her way through the hospital; she was sure that he was a very nice man, but he wasn’t Nick. Nick—whom she ought to hate and despise instead of loving.

CHAPTER TWO

ALETHEA INSPECTED her wardrobe in a dispirited fashion, only too conscious of the fact that on the previous evening she had been wild with excitement at the idea of dining with Nick. She wondered what kind of a place they would go to and played safe with a silk jersey dress under the rather nice mohair coat she had treated herself to only a few weeks ago. She was such a pretty girl that even her miserable feelings couldn’t do more than dim her beauty. Just as she was ready she very nearly decided not to go; she wasn’t being quite fair, for she would be dull company and Mr van Diederijk was too nice to treat badly. Then she remembered that she still owed him the money for last night’s dinner; Nick wasn’t going to pay, so she would have to. She popped her cheque book into her bag and went downstairs.

Mr van Diederijk, standing with his back to her by the big glass doors of the hospital entrance, looked enormous. He would have to have everything made for him, she reflected foolishly as she crossed the hall, and what a frightful expense! He was wearing a grey suit, beautifully tailored, and his shoes were the sort that one didn’t notice, but when one did, one could see that they were wildly expensive, too. He turned as she reached him and she realised that he had seen her reflected in the glass of the doors. His greeting was pleasantly matter-of-fact and his glance friendly but quite impersonal. ‘Delightfully punctual,’ he murmured, and opened the door for her to go through.

There was a car parked close by, a Jaguar XJ-S, gun-metal grey and upholstered in a pearl grey leather. He ushered her into it, got in beside her and drove out of the hospital forecourt. ‘Do you know Le Français?’ he asked as he turned the car’s elegant nose into the evening traffic. ‘I had wondered if we might go out of town, but you look tired—it’s been rather a day, hasn’t it? Perhaps another time—You like French cooking?’

He rambled on in his quiet deep voice so that all she had to do was murmur from time to time. Alethea felt herself relaxing; she had been right, he was a delightful, undemanding companion. She found herself wondering if she was dressed to suit the occasion; she hadn’t taken very great pains and he had said that she looked tired, which meant, in all probability, that she looked plain. He cleared up the little problem for her by observing: ‘You look very nice, but then of course you are a beautiful girl, even when you’re tired.’

He spoke in such a matter-of-fact way that she wasn’t sure if it was a compliment or a statement of fact. She said ‘Thank you,’ and then: ‘It has been a busy day.’

They discussed it easily and at some length without being too serious about it until he parked and walked her across the pavement into the restaurant. It seemed that he was known there; they were greeted with a warm civility and when she had left her coat and taken a dissatisfied look at herself in the cloakroom, she found him waiting for her in the tiny foyer, talking with a man who she guessed might be the proprietor.

The bar was small but cosy and she was given time to choose her drink; she had become so accustomed to Nick ordering a dry sherry that for a moment she had to think. ‘I don’t really care for dry sherry,’ she told her companion. ‘What else is there?’

‘Dubonnet?’ he enquired placidly, ‘or how about a Madeira?’

She chose the latter and when the barman had served Mr van Diederijk with a gin and tonic, she took a sip of her own drink. It was nice, and even nicer because she had been asked what she would like and not just had a glass handed to her. They sat side by side, talking about nothing much and deciding what they should eat; soup with garlic, Barquettes Girondines for Alethea and Entrecote Bordelais for her companion. She sat back feeling more peaceful than she had done since the previous evening, while he chose the wines.

Getting ready for bed, much later, she found herself unable to remember just what they had talked about; they hadn’t hurried over their meal, and she paused in her hairbrushing to drool a little over the memory of the zabaglione and then worried because the memory of its deliciousness was so much sharper than their conversation. It was just as she was on the edge of sleep that she realised that she hadn’t thought about Nick at all, not once they had started their meal. Simultaneously she remembered that Mr van Diederijk had suggested that they might go to a theatre one evening. She had accepted, too, with the sudden thought that perhaps if Nick heard about it, he might feel jealous enough to discover that he was in love with her after all. She woke in the night with the clear recollection of the understanding in Mr van Diederijk’s face when she had accepted his invitation.

Alethea was half way through her breakfast the next morning when she paused, a fork half way to her mouth. How could she possibly have forgotten to pay Mr van Diederijk the money she, or rather, Nick, owed him?

Her friends stared at her. ‘Alethea, what’s up? You look as though you’ve remembered something simply frightful,’ and someone said cheerfully: ‘She’s left the weights off someone’s Balkan Beam…’

There was a little ripple of laughter and Alethea laughed with them. ‘Much worse!’ but she didn’t say more, and they, who had guessed that something had happened between her and Nick, carefully didn’t ask what it was.

She would be bound to see him within the next day or so, perhaps even this very day, Alethea decided as she set about the business of allocating the day’s work, but she didn’t. There was no sign of him. Sir Walter came surrounded by his posse of assistants, talking to Nick, discussing his cases, but of Mr van Diederijk there was no sign. Alethea, with a half day she didn’t want, took herself off duty and spent it washing her hair, writing letters and going for a brisk walk through the rather dingy streets around the hospital. She might just as well have taken a bus and gone up to Oxford Street and at least gone out to tea, but she had no heart for doing anything. Nick hadn’t bothered to look at her during the round, and it dawned on her painfully that he really had finished with her, that he had meant it when he had declared that he wasn’t going to waste time on her. He had called her prissy too. The thought roused her to anger, so that she glared at a perfectly blameless housewife, loaded with shopping, coming towards her on the pavement.

She walked herself tired and returned in time for supper at the hospital, and her friends, seeing her bleak face, talked about everything under the sun excepting herself.

‘That charmer’s gone,’ observed Philly Chambers, a small dark girl who was junior sister in the orthopaedic theatre. ‘Much in demand he was too, and I’m not surprised—he should have been a film star.’

‘You mean that giant who was wandering round with Sir Walter?’ asked Patty Cox, senior sister on Women’s Surgical. ‘Very self-effacing despite his size, never used two words when one would do. I hear he’s in charge of some new hospital in Holland where they combine orthopaedics with osteopathy; surgeons and osteopaths work hand in glove, as it were. Sir Walter’s interested, that’s why he’s been over here. He’s coming back…’

‘You know an awful lot about him,’ commented Philly, and looked across at Alethea. ‘You’re the one who ought to know all the gen, Alethea,’ she cried, and went on unthinkingly: ‘Nick must know all about him…’ She stopped, muttered: ‘Oh, lord, I’m sorry,’ and then: ‘I’ll fetch the pudding, shall I?’

Alethea had gone rather pale, so that her already pale face looked quite pinched. She said in an expressionless voice: ‘I don’t know anything about him,’ and realised that she only spoke the truth; he had told her nothing of himself, indeed, she could remember nothing of their conversations, perhaps she hadn’t been listening… She added: ‘He seemed very nice, though.’

There was a little burst of talk with everyone doing their best to change the conversation. There had been a good deal of gossip about Alethea and Nick Penrose. No one had actually found out exactly what had happened, but the hospital grapevine was loaded with rumours. That they had quarrelled was a certainty and it looked as though their romance was at an end, judging from Alethea’s face and unhappy air. Besides, Sue had told the staff nurse on Women’s Surgical, who had told Patty in her turn, that Nick Penrose was ignoring Alethea when he came on the ward; he had always had coffee with her after his round in the mornings, and they had smiled a good deal at each other and although their conversations had been brief anyone could have seen that they were wrapped up in each other—but not any more. Besides, Patty had seen with her own eyes Nick strolling down the theatre corridor with the theatre staff nurse, a pretty girl who made no secret of the fact that she was out to get a member of the medical profession as a husband. He had looked remarkably carefree and pleased with himself too.

She finished her pudding, saw that Alethea had merely spread hers round her plate, and suggested that it might be worth going to the rather dreary little cinema a stone’s throw from the hospital. ‘There’s that film on that I’ve been longing to see,’ she declared, ‘but I won’t go alone—Alethea, keep me company, there’s a dear, and what about you, Philly?’

She gathered a handful of friends round her and by sheer weight of numbers persuaded Alethea to accompany them. It was unfortunate that on their way out they should meet Nick Penrose, arm in arm with the theatre staff nurse.

Alethea went home for her days off at the end of the week, travelling down to the little village near Dunmow in her rather battered Fiat 500 on Friday evening, happy to shake off the hospital and its unhappy memories for a time at least. Once clear of London and its suburbs, the newly green and peaceful Essex countryside soothed her feelings. She had purposely left the main road at the earliest moment and had kept to the narrow lanes. It took a good deal longer, but the evening was a pleasant one and although she had told her grandmother that she was coming she had mentioned no special time. She reached Great Dunmow about seven o’clock and took the country road which would lead her eventually to Little Braugh, resolutely thinking about anything and everything except Nick. She had been a fool, she reflected, quite unable to keep to her resolution; Nick was an ambitious man and she had nothing to offer him but a pretty face and the qualities of a first-class nurse—he would want money too, for without that he would take twice as long to reach the top of his profession, and, whispered a small voice at the back of her head, Theatre Staff Nurse Petts was the only daughter of a rich grocer. She shook her head free of its worrying and concentrated on the road. But Nick’s image remained clear behind her eyelids and no amount of telling herself that she was well rid of someone who had had no real regard for her could dispel it.

But there was no sign of her worrying when she drew up outside a small cottage on the edge of the scattering of houses which was Little Braugh. It was a pretty little place with a hedged garden and a brick path to its solid front door, set squarely into its plain front. But the porch was a handsome one and the paint on its window frames was immaculate and a neat border of spring flowers testified to a careful gardener. Alethea beat a tattoo on the door knocker and opened the door, calling out as she went inside, and her grandmother, a brisk upright woman in her late sixties, came from the back of the house to greet her.

Mrs Thomas kissed her granddaughter with pleasure. They were much of a height and her keen eyes stared into Alethea’s large brown ones with faint worry in their depths, but she didn’t make any remark about Alethea’s still too pale face, instead she enquired as to the journey, observed that there was steak and kidney pie for supper and expressed the hope that Alethea was hungry enough to do it justice.

It wasn’t until the meal, served by Mrs Thomas’s devoted housekeeper, Mrs Bustle, was over and they were sitting round the small log fire in the comfortable, rather shabby sitting room, that Mrs Thomas asked casually: ‘You’ve been busy? You look washed out, Alethea.’ She frowned a little. ‘I sometimes wish you would give up that job at Theobald’s and get something nearer here in a small hospital where the work isn’t so exacting.’

Alethea picked a thread off her skirt. ‘I enjoy my work, Granny, even when I’m tired, but if you would like me to get something locally, I’ll do that.’

Mrs Thomas’s frown deepened. ‘Indeed you will not, my dear. I wouldn’t dream of spoiling a promising career through my selfishness.’ She stopped frowning, picked up her knitting and went on in a carefully casual way: ‘You have no intention of getting married? You must meet any number of men…’

‘Yes, Granny, I do—most of them are married…’

‘And those that aren’t?’

‘Well, I go out sometimes—quite often, but there isn’t any particular one.’ She added honestly: ‘Not now, at any rate.’

Her grandmother nodded, pleased that she had guessed rightly although all she said was: ‘There are plenty of other good fish in the sea.’ She added gently: ‘Do you mind very much, my dear?’

Alethea bent forward to poke the fire. ‘Yes, I do, Granny. You see, I thought he was going to marry me…’

‘And of course you have to see him every day?’

‘Yes.’

‘Awkward for you. Could you not take a holiday?’

‘And run away, Granny? I can’t do that. I—I expect it won’t be so bad in a day or two. One gets over these things.’

Her grandmother opened her mouth to say something and then thought better of it; instead she embarked on a long account of the last WI meeting, of which she was president. It lasted until bedtime.

But if she had hoped that it might take her granddaughter’s mind off her unhappiness, she was mistaken. Alethea came down to breakfast the next morning looking as though she had hardly slept a wink, which she hadn’t. She had thought that once away from Theobald’s with no chance of seeing Nick, she might feel better. Instead, she thought about him all the time, allowing herself to dream foolish little daydreams in which he arrived at her grandmother’s door, unable to live without her. Her usually sensible mind rejected this absurdity, but the daydreams persisted, although she did her best to dispel them by a bout of gardening, a walk to the village for the groceries and then a game of chess with her grandmother, who having her wits about her and being good at the game anyway, beat her to a standstill.