Sun and Candlelight

She went back on the following evening, sorry to leave the quiet little house which had been her home since her parents had died, but excited at the thought of seeing Nick again.

And she did see him; he was crossing the yard at the back of the hospital where the staff parked their cars. Staff Nurse Petts was with him and they were obviously making for his car. As they drew level with her, Marie Petts accorded her a smug smile. Nick said, ‘Good evening, Sister Thomas,’ with the air of only just remembering who she was.

Alethea, rather pale with her desire to fling herself at Nick, wished them both a serene ‘Hullo,’ and would have gone on her way, but Marie wasn’t going to be done out of her triumph. She stopped, so that Nick had to stop too, and said with false friendliness: ‘We’re going to the Palladium—that marvellous show everyone’s talking about.’

Alethea, listening to her own voice, cool and pleasant, marvelled at it. ‘I hear it’s quite super…’ She would have babbled on, intent on letting them both see that she didn’t care two straws even though there was a cold lump of misery under her ribs, but she was interrupted. Mr van Diederijk, sprung apparently from the ground, so silently had he joined them, spoke before she could utter any more banalities.

‘There you are, Alethea,’ he remarked placidly. ‘I was beginning to think that that funny little car of yours had broken down. Can you manage to change in twenty minutes or so? I’ve booked a table for half past eight.’

He had slipped between her and the other two so that they didn’t see her startled face and open mouth. After a moment she began: ‘But I…’

‘Need longer? You can have an extra five minutes, then—I’ll wait in the main entrance.’

She turned without a word and almost ran in to the Nurses’ Home entrance, up the stairs and into her room, where she sat down on the bed without bothering to take off her jacket. Of course Mr van Diederijk hadn’t meant a word of it. He had rescued her from an awkward situation, that was all; she would have a bath and go to bed early and thank him for his kindness when she saw him again. She was already in her dressing gown when one of the home maids knocked on the door and told her that she was wanted on the telephone, and just for a second the absurd idea that it might be Nick crossed her mind. It wasn’t; Mr van Diederijk’s calm voice asked matter-of-factly if she was changing. ‘Because if you are, put on something pretty. I thought we might go to Eatons.’

‘Oh, I thought—that is, I thought that you were just helping me out, or something.’ She added doggedly: ‘You were, weren’t you? You didn’t mean to ask me out to dinner…’

His chuckle was comforting and reassuring. ‘Oh, yes, I was helping you out, but I certainly meant to ask you to dine with me, both this evening and as frequently as possible.’

She took the receiver from her ear and looked at it, wondering if she could have heard him aright. After a minute she said: ‘Thank you, I’d like to come out this evening. I’ll be very quick.’

Something pretty, he had said. She had an almost new crêpe dress, smoky grey delicately patterned with amber and a misty green. She had worn it once to go out with Nick and as she put it on she remembered that he had barely noticed it. She zipped it up defiantly, brushed out her hair so that it curled on her neck, dug her feet into slippers, caught up the dark grey flannel coat she had bought years ago and which was happily dateless and ran downstairs.

Mr van Diederijk was waiting just where he said he would be and she sighed with relief without knowing it. He made some commonplace remark as she joined him, opened the door and led her to the Jaguar and during the brief journey he kept the conversation firmly in his own hands; even if she had wanted to say anything about her meeting with Nick he didn’t give her the chance. It was the same during their dinner, a delicious meal—smoked salmon, pork escalope and a rich creamy dessert. They drank Hock, and Alethea, considerably cheered by two glasses of it, prudently refused the brandy offered with her coffee. She was pouring second cups when Mr van Diederijk observed: ‘That’s a pretty dress,’ and then: ‘Do you like dancing?’

She remembered the evenings she had gone dancing with Nick. Her ‘Yes, I do’ was so hesitant that he went on smoothly:

‘We must try it one evening, but in the meantime would you come to a theatre with me? Saturday evening, perhaps—there’s a play I rather wanted to see, I think you might enjoy it too.’

She didn’t say anything for a few minutes and then she asked a question. ‘Why are you being so very kind? I mean, asking me out to dinner—twice within days and then pretending that we were spending the evening together…’

‘Well, we are, aren’t we? Spending the evening together.’ His voice was bland. ‘And I’m not being kind, Alethea, rather should I say that I like to see fair play, and it seems to me that young Penrose isn’t playing fair.’ He looked at her thoughtfully, frowning a little. ‘If you want him back you must put on a bold front.’

‘I don’t want him back,’ she uttered the lie so hotly that it was quite apparent that there wasn’t a word of truth in it, ‘and what’s more, I can’t see that it’s any business of yours, Mr van Diederijk.’

‘You are of course quite right. I apologise.’ He added coolly: ‘I expect you would like to go.’ He lifted a finger and took the bill and signed it, and Alethea cried sharply: ‘Oh, I quite forgot—I still owe you for the other night…’

She was stopped by the look of distaste on her companion’s face. ‘Allow me to settle that with Penrose,’ he said blandly. There was nothing for her to do but get up and go. She did it with outward calm, smarting from his polite snub, and engaged him in a trivial conversation all the way back to Theobald’s, where she thanked him with the nice manners of a small girl who had been well drilled in the social niceties.

Mr van Diederijk listened to her, his head a little on one side. When she had finished, all he said was: ‘Not a successful evening, but there will be others.’

This remark sent her crossly to her bed; there would be no more evenings, she decided, and then remembered that she had said that she would go to the theatre with him. Oh well, she conceded, just that once more, and then never again.

In view of this resolution it was upsetting to receive a brief note from him on the following day, telling her that he had been called back to Holland, and must regretfully postpone their date. She stuck it back in its envelope and left it on the desk in her office, and presently when she went back there with Sir Walter and Nick, she saw him looking at it. She picked it up and put it in her pocket without a word and had the satisfaction of hearing Nick ask Sir Walter if Mr van Diederijk would be operating on the case they had been looking at.

‘Back in Holland,’ mumbled Sir Walter through a mouthful of biscuit, ‘had an emergency call from his brother. He’ll be back, though. I want to get his opinion on that leg we’ve been looking at.’

He launched into technicalities and Alethea poured his second cup of coffee and listened with one ear, while she speculated as to whether Mr van Diederijk would ask her out again. It was difficult to keep her mind on this, because Nick was sitting close to her and she was only too well aware of him. He was still behaving as though she was someone he had only just met and didn’t like, anyway, and she was hard put to it to maintain a serene front. She still felt terrible about him, but pride forbade her to show her feelings and there was a certain sad satisfaction in knowing that she was being successful in this. She saw the two men out of the ward presently and went back to her ward round which they had interrupted.

Saturday came and went, and it was lucky that she was so very busy, she told herself, for now that she had no date, she was under no obligation to go off duty punctually on Saturday evening—indeed, she stayed on for an hour or more, much to Sue’s surprise and faint annoyance; surely Sister Thomas knew her well enough by now to know that she could safely leave the patients to her without fussing round in a totally untypical manner? It came to her presently that it might be on account of Nick Penrose. Alethea had said nothing and her manner towards him had given nothing away, all the same… Sue nodded her head wisely and when Alethea at last went off duty, wished her good night with genuine sympathy.

Sunday and Monday were surprisingly quiet and Alethea had given herself her days off on Tuesday and Wednesday that week. Thursday was to be a heavy operating day, and she liked to be on duty for theatre days, anyway. She went home on Monday evening, driving through the lovely April evening and seeing nothing of it, her mind busy. She would waste no more time in being sorry for herself, but she knew that she would have to get away from Nick before she could take up the threads of her life once more. She would have liked to have given in her notice there and then, but that wasn’t possible; she would have to work her month out, like everyone else, and find herself another job. It might look as though she were running away from an unpleasant situation, and in a way, she was and probably Nick would get some satisfaction from it, but her friends would understand and as far as she could see, it was the best way, indeed, the only way.

She told her grandmother of her vague plans that evening and that lady, without asking any awkward questions, heartily agreed with her before embarking on a series of helpful suggestions as to where she should go.

‘Give London a rest,’ she urged. ‘Why not Edinburgh? I know it’s a long way and you won’t get home nearly as often, but you’ll be breaking new ground.’ Mrs Thomas settled back in her chair. ‘Get out that port the vicar gave me at Christmas, child, we’ll have a glass while we’re thinking.’

But there was nothing much to discuss, when all was said and done. Alethea loved her grandmother dearly, but she had no intention of burdening her with her troubles; all the same, it was pleasant to sit there and make plans for the future with someone who really was interested. It was probably the port which made her sleep soundly for the first time in nights.

She awoke early to a splendid morning with a brisk wind and sunshine, which, while not over-warm, gave promise of a lovely day. She lay in bed for a little while and then remembered how Mrs Bustle had been grumbling mildly about the spring cleaning, something which she insisted upon doing each year. Alethea got out of bed, got into slacks and a thin sweater and crept downstairs. The sitting room curtains, Mrs Bustle had observed gloomily, simply had to come down and have a good blow.

Alethea made tea, drank it at the open kitchen door, gave Podge the cat his morning milk and set about getting the curtains out into the garden. They were old and faded, but their damask was still good. They were also very heavy; she hauled them down the garden path to the very end where the clothes line was, and hung them upon it, and then, quite carried away by her success, went into the dining room and did the same for the green serge hanging at the big sash window there. She would make more tea, she decided, and take a cup upstairs to both ladies before getting the breakfast; Mrs Bustle could do with an extra hour in bed. The old ladies were grateful. With strict instructions about breakfast she was allowed to go downstairs again, lay the table and put on the porridge. She was hungry by now and the packet of Rice Crispies she found in a cupboard was welcome; she sat on the kitchen table, eating them, her head, just for the moment, happily free of unhappy thoughts.

‘Now that’s what I like to see,’ said Mr van Diederijk cheerfully from the window behind her, ‘a strong young woman working in the kitchen.’

She turned to look at him, surprised at the little rush of pleasure she felt at the sight of him. She answered him through a mouthful of crispies: ‘I very much doubt if you ever bother to go to the kitchen, whether there’s a strong young woman there or not.’ She frowned a little; such a description made her feel large and muscley.

‘Oh, but I do—I have a housekeeper, a Scotswoman who bakes Dundee cakes for me. I’m partial to a nice Dundee cake. May I come in?’

And when she nodded he lifted a long leg over the sill and slid neatly into the room. He was looking very trendy, she considered. Not young any more but distinguished, and his clothes were just right.

He put out a hand and she shook some Rice Crispies into it. ‘You pay your visits very early,’ she observed.

‘I came over on the Harwich ferry, it got in just after six.’ He glanced at his watch. ‘It’s almost eight o’clock. Have you had breakfast?’

‘Not yet. Would you like some? My grandmother and Mrs Bustle will be down very soon, I’m waiting for them.’ She got down off the table. ‘How did you know I was here, or did you just happen to be passing?’

He looked vague. ‘Oh, someone or other told me where you lived and I thought that if I called about breakfast time…’

Alethea laughed and at the same time felt vaguely peeved that he hadn’t come specially to see her, only on the offchance of getting breakfast. She thrust the thought aside as absurd; now if it had been Nick…

‘Don’t look so sad.’ Mr van Diederijk’s voice was kind. ‘I’m not young Penrose, but at least I provide you with company.’

She lifted startled eyes to his. ‘However did you know that I was thinking that?’

‘Logic.’ He wandered over to the open door. ‘What a charming garden. Why are all the curtains hanging on the line and not at the windows?’

Alethea explained, and halfway through Mrs Bustle came in, was introduced, declared herself pleased to meet their visitor, enquired if he liked two eggs with his bacon or three and ordered them with brisk kindness out of her kitchen. ‘The sitting room’s got the sun,’ she pointed out, ‘though it looks a bit bare without those curtains, and as for you, Miss Alethea, you’d do well to go and wash your face and hands and comb your hair for your breakfast.’

‘The worst of these old family servants and friends,’ remarked Mr van Diederijk, ushered into the sitting room by Alethea, ‘is that having known you since you were so high, they never allow you to grow up. I know—I’ve one at home.’

‘The one who bakes the cakes?’

‘The very same. Are you on duty tomorrow?’

She paused at the door. ‘Yes—I drove down.’

‘Ah, well—I’ll drive you back. You can always come down by train and drive back next time?’

‘Well, yes, I could. But I’m not going until this evening.’

‘Ah—I’m invited to spend the day?’ His voice was bland. ‘I shall enjoy that. Besides, I can hang those curtains for you.’

Alethea was much struck, when at the end of the day she was sitting beside Mr van Diederijk on their way back to Theobald’s, at the pleasant time she—indeed all of them—had had. Her grandmother had liked him and had spent quite some time in conversation with him while Alethea and Mrs Bustle got lunch, and as for the housekeeper, he was an instant success, and although he didn’t get Dundee cake for his tea, he certainly had his appetite coaxed with feather-light sponges, home-made scones and Mrs Bustle’s own jam. And when they left she was surprised at her grandmother’s sincere wish that he should call again. And he had agreed to do so, too.

‘It was rather a quiet day for you,’ she ventured as he sent the Jaguar racing ahead.

‘I like quiet days. What gave you the idea that I didn’t?’ he wanted to know.

‘Nothing—only you live in London and I expect you go out a good deal.’

‘I live in Groningen, too, and I like nothing better than to be at home.’ He overtook the cars ahead of him and steadied the car’s pace. ‘And you?’ He glanced at her. ‘Your grandmother tells me that you’re thinking of leaving Theobald’s. A good idea, but of course you can only leave for one reason.’

She turned to look at him. ‘What do you mean?’

‘Be bright, dear girl. If you leave to go to another job, your Nick is going to hear of it and he’ll know you’re running away. If you leave, it must be to get married.’

Alethea sat up, scattering her handbag and its contents all over the floor. ‘There, look what you’ve made me do!’ she declared unfairly.

‘We’ll pick everything up presently. Did you hear what I said, Alethea?’

‘Yes—but how can I do that? I don’t know anyone—and besides, I don’t want to get married.’ She swallowed. ‘Well, you know what I mean, only if it’s Nick.’ She added crossly: ‘And I don’t know why I talk to you like this.’

He ignored everything she had said. ‘We’ll have to see,’ was all he said, and he went on to talk about the morrow’s work. He was, she decided, very annoying at times, pretending not to hear, probably not listening. She wished him a rather snappy goodnight and was rendered speechless when he suddenly pulled her close and kissed her. When she had her breath back she demanded indignantly: ‘What was that for?’

‘A matter of expediency—your Nick came into the hall and it seemed a good idea to give him something to think about. There’s nothing like a little competition.’

‘Thank you,’ said Alethea. Young men usually kissed her because they wanted to, Mr van Diederijk apparently did it by way of necessity; she wasn’t sure if she minded or not. She wished him goodnight for a second time and went to her room. She had hoped to see Nick as she went, but there was no sign of him. Surely if he had any feeling left for her at all he would have wanted to know why Mr van Diederijk had kissed her? She sighed; she was wasting time, her pride told her, and the sooner she left the better. ‘But I’ll not get married,’ she told herself out loud.

CHAPTER THREE

SHE WAS OF THE same mind the next morning and indeed she was of a mind to tell Mr van Diederijk this if she had the opportunity. But there was no chance to speak to him. True, he paid a fleeting visit to the ward, elegant and rather awe-inspiring in his dark grey suiting and expensive tie, but he was very much the consultant; beyond wishing him a pleasant good morning, proffering the notes of the case which he wished to see and escorting him to the ward door with an equally pleasant goodbye, Alethea prudently said nothing. Probably he would come again, when there might be a few minutes in which to tell him that she had no intention of even considering his ridiculous suggestion. What did it matter what Nick thought, anyway? she asked herself as she penned instructions in the day book. It was galling to discover much later in the day, that he had been back while she had been down in X-Ray, speaking her mind about some missing films urgently needed on the ward. What was more, he had stopped to chat to Sue. ‘Almost ten minutes,’ declared that young lady. ‘Anyone would think that he hadn’t anything else in the world to do, and when I asked him if he wanted to see you all he said was: “I think not, Staff, not for the moment.”’ She sighed. ‘He’s very good-looking and his eyes twinkle.’

‘Pooh!’ exclaimed Alethea, suddenly cross for no reason, and then to cover up her little outburst: ‘X-Ray say they haven’t a clue where those films are, they say they gave them to Nurse Jenkins, although no one remembers actually doing that. I’ll have a word with her, I think.’ She wrinkled her pretty forehead. ‘What a waste of time when there’s so much to be done!’

And it wasn’t just the lost films, the whole day had been a series of small hold-ups, misunderstandings and delays. Alethea went off duty finally, glad that it was over. It wasn’t until she was in bed that she remembered that she had meant to go and see the Principal Nursing Officer about leaving. ‘Tomorrow,’ she told herself, and resolutely shut her eyes, but before she went to sleep she found herself remembering very clearly what good company Mr van Diederijk had been at her home, sitting opposite her at her grandmother’s table, tucking into Mrs Bustle’s steak and kidney pie with relish. He grew on one, she decided, and slept.

As so often happened, the next morning went as smoothly as the previous one had gone consistently wrong. Enough staff for once, all the operation cases of the day before doing exactly as they should, even the missing X-Ray films turning up. Alethea, her round done and the wheels of morning work turning smoothly, retired to her office to tackle the off-duty book, fill in the requisitions, make diplomatic telephone calls to the laundry, the dietitian and the Social Worker and presently, to enjoy a cup of coffee with Sue.

She was deep in the off-duty when the door opened and without lifting her head she said: ‘Sue, I want Mr Brook’s leg up a bit…’ and when no one answered she looked up.

‘Good morning,’ observed Mr van Diederijk. ‘Your staff nurse assures me that you are more or less free for a little while. I should like to talk to you.’

She put down her pen. ‘Now?’

‘Now. About Penrose.’ He lifted a large hand as she began to protest and went on in a matter-of-fact voice: ‘He is the only man you have loved.’ It wasn’t a question, just a statement of fact.

Alethea went pink and said ‘Yes,’ gruffly.

‘You weren’t having an affair, of course.’

The pink flamed to red and she choked a little. ‘Certainly not!’

‘Forgive me, I don’t know why I asked that question; it was quite unnecessary. I wonder, would you consider marrying me, Alethea?’

Indignation and surprise turned to sheer amazement.

‘Will I what?’ she repeated slowly.

‘Consider marrying me.’ He was as much at his ease as he might have been asking her if she had an empty bed on the ward.

She rearranged everything on her desk, trying to think what to say, and when nothing came, she rearranged everything again.

‘Let us review the situation calmly,’ suggested Mr van Diederijk in an unhurried fashion. ‘You wish to run away from a situation which is no longer tolerable to you, but you haven’t quite enough courage to do so.’ And when she jerked her head up: ‘No, don’t interrupt. You would like a way out, wouldn’t you, for to remain here has become untenable, hasn’t it? But your pride must be kept intact at all costs, your reason for leaving must have nothing to suggest that you are running away. I offer you a means to that end. No, allow me to finish. I need a wife, or more accurately, my home needs a mistress, and I need someone to entertain my friends and provide a secure background for my children.’ He paused and held her astonished gaze with calm blue eyes. ‘Oh, yes, I have been married. My wife and I were divorced by mutual consent ten years ago. She is married to some rich South American and lives in Brazil—or is it Peru? I can never remember. She has no interest in the children—twins, a boy, Sarel, and a girl, Jacomina. They are eleven years old.’

Alethea asked breathlessly: ‘She left them when they were a year old? She couldn’t…’

‘She could and she did. They need a mother very badly, Alethea, but I must make it quite clear that I do not need a wife.’

She pushed a tidy pile of papers away so roughly that they fell in a hopeless muddle to the floor. ‘You could get yourself a housekeeper.’ She remembered as she said it that he already had one. ‘Or a nursemaid,’ she added.

He was quite unruffled. ‘I already have both. My housekeeper I mentioned, she is elderly and excellent, but bringing up children is not part of her work. The nursemaid has been with the children since they were babies. She loves them dearly, spoils them utterly and can no longer cope. They need kind authority, understanding and someone to confide in and love.’

‘Why not you?’ Her voice was a little sharp.

‘I am not a woman. I love them, make no mistake about that, but there are so many things I cannot do or say which a woman—a mother—can.’

Alethea opened her mouth ready to utter the telling remarks she had a mind to utter, but she had no chance. The door opened again and Sue came in, hesitated, said: ‘I’ll bring in the coffee, shall I? You too, sir?’ and retreated.

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