NEITHER JULIA nor the professor had much to say as he sent the Rolls tearing towards London, but their silence was a friendly one and Julia sat drowsily, uncaring of the future for the moment, it was enough to be sitting beside Lauris even though the next time they met he would look down his nose at her and address her as ‘Sister’. They were within a few miles of London when he said quietly: ‘I hope you will give me the pleasure of dining with me, Julia.’
She was so taken aback that she stammered. ‘Oh—well, it’s very kind of you but what about Wellington?’
‘He’s asleep, he had a good meal before we left and will be hours sleeping it off. Besides, we shan’t be all that time; I have to be back at Mrs Mitchell’s some time tonight—the key is under the large stone on the left of the door.’ And when she didn’t answer, ‘We’ll go to a grill room. You don’t feel like cooking, do you?’
Indeed she didn’t and she said so. ‘That settles it then,’ he said firmly. They were already approaching the West End, presently he turned into Carlos Place and stopped outside the Connaught Hotel.
‘Not here,’ said Julia quite sharply, ‘I’m not dressed for it.’
‘The grill room,’ explained the professor placidly, ‘there’s nothing wrong with your clothes.’ He ushered her out and they went through the imposing entrance and were given a table for two in a quiet corner.
‘You look uneasy,’ he commented, settling himself opposite to her.
‘It’s not my business,’ began Julia, aware that she was just asking for one of his nasty remarks but none the less compelled to speak. ‘But I don’t think I should be here, having dinner with you when you are getting married to someone else?’
‘Why not? She is a sensible girl, and I think—I know that she trusts me. We are, after all, colleagues at work, not secret lovers.’
Julia, with a heightened colour, met his eyes squarely. ‘Does she know about me, then?’
‘Of course,’
‘Well, as long as she wouldn’t mind.’ Her green eyes searched his impassive face. ‘But don’t you want to be with her?’
‘Indeed I do. She’s been away for the weekend.’
There seemed nothing more to be said on the matter, indeed, she had the sneaking feeling that she had been making too much of it altogether; she accepted the menu offered her, agreed that sherry would be very nice and applied herself to choosing her dinner. She chose smoked salmon with brown bread and butter, an omelette Diplomate because it had truffles in it, and she had never eaten any, and at her companion’s suggestion, peaches poached in champagne, a delicious meal which somehow made life seem quite possible again. They didn’t sit long over their coffee and when Julia voiced doubts about Wellington’s displeasure if he found himself incarcerated for much longer, the professor called for the bill and they went back to the car.
The streets were fairly empty now and the drive took only a very short time. In the shabby little street, outside her own door, she thanked him nicely for the ride and her dinner, but all the same, he still got out of the car, took Wellington’s basket and her overnight bag and went up the stairs to her own front door. But he didn’t stay, he set Wellington down on the floor, put her bag carefully on a chair, and said cheerfully: ‘Well, I’ll be off. See you during the week. Good night, Julia.’
And he had gone, her hasty good night wasted on the empty air.
Curled up in bed presently, with the kitten tucked under one arm, it struck her that he had said nothing more about going to Holland with the boys. Had he really meant it, she wondered and he might have had something more to say about it if he really had. She hadn’t agreed either and she wasn’t going to, she told herself firmly, unless he renewed his invitation. And even then, she told herself sleepily, I may not go, aware that she had every intention of going.
She had too much to do on Monday to worry about it and there was a letter for her from Nigel which she forbore to open until she was back in her flat that evening. She opened it reluctantly, half afraid that he had thought better of their parting and wanted to try again. But she need not have worried on that score; it was a nice letter, even if a shade pompous, wishing her all the best for the future, allowing that they had made a wise decision even if a painful one and enlarging on the splendid opportunities he hoped for.
She read it carefully, relieved that he was already recovering, thinking ruefully that he was far more concerned about his own future than hers.
She tore the letter up, put the pieces tidily in the waste paper basket and made herself a pot of tea. She wasn’t a conceited woman, but it was a little depressing to be dismissed so easily after more than two years.
She drank her tea and forced herself to consider her future. She didn’t really want to leave St Anne’s but since she had the choice, it would be sensible to leave; it would be like tearing her heart out not to see Lauris again, but meeting him on their old footing once he was married was rather more than she could manage. She would try and stay in London and she had as good a chance as anyone if she applied for a post in one of the other teaching hospitals if and when one became vacant. She might have to wait a little while but that didn’t matter so much once she had made up her mind. She must be sensible she reminded herself.
It was hard to be sensible the next morning as she went down the ward to meet him when he came to do his round. There seemed to be more people than usual with him; students and the woman social worker who had brought along an assistant for some reason or other. And old Doctor Knowles who had retired years ago, when Julia was still a junior nurse and who came very occasionally to go round his old wards as a guest. She wished everyone good morning and blushed when the old man observed, ‘Julia Mitchell—prettier than ever I do declare. Why aren’t you married with a clutch of babies? Didn’t I hear that you were going to marry young Longman?’
She hated herself for blushing but answered composedly enough. ‘We’ve decided not to marry after all, sir.’
‘H’m, well, better now than later, I suppose, but a great waste.’ He beamed at her. ‘Professor van der Wagema most kindly invited me to go round with him. Some interesting cases I believe…’
The round went smoothly, if rather more slowly than usual. Doctor Knowles might be old, but he hadn’t lost his skill and the professor deferred very nicely to him on several points of diagnosis. As they walked away from the last bed, he rubbed his hands together and enquired hopefully, ‘Coffee?’
Julia ushered him into the office and sat him down at the desk; it left very little room by the time Dick and the professor had settled themselves on the radiators and she had perched on the stool the professor had fetched from the landing outside. It was over the coffee that Doctor Knowles wanted to know what had happened to Mrs Collins. ‘A most interesting case,’ he commented, ‘and a remarkable recovery. Where is she now?’
‘At my house,’ said the professor. ‘My housekeeper wanted someone to mend and polish the silver and so on, and Mrs Collins seemed just right for the job.’
‘You’ve always been a man to help lame dogs over stiles,’ declared Doctor Knowles and ignored his colleague’s frown. ‘How’s that boy of yours?’
‘Doing very well and making friends at school. Julia’s father is coaching him and he and her brothers have struck up the beginnings of a friendship. They are all going over to Holland for a few days as soon as the holidays start.’
He turned his dark gaze on Julia and added blandly, ‘Julia has been invited to go with them.’
‘Splendid, splendid,’ boomed Doctor Knowles happily. ‘A little light relief from this job, eh, my dear?’
Julia gave the professor a look which would have shaken a lesser man. ‘I haven’t yet decided,’ she said coldly.
‘You’re free tomorrow?’ asked the professor, smiling charmingly at her. ‘I hope you will spare the time to discuss things with me.’ He added in the tone of a kindly uncle. ‘I’ll collect you about eleven o’clock, if that suits you?’ His avuncular manner became even more pronounced. ‘We can iron out any small difficulties.’
Dick and Doctor Knowles were looking at her and smiling; she said with a touch of peevishness, ‘Very well, Professor, I’m not doing anything in the morning.’
She wasn’t doing anything in the afternoon either but she would think up something; a lunch date with an old friend; a mythical aunt expecting a visit…
She saw them off the ward presently, very dignified, and careful to avoid the professor’s eye.
It was cold and grey when she got up the next morning, she looked after Wellington, cooked the breakfast, and dressed herself warmly in a jersey dress and the well-cut wool coat she had saved for; she liked good clothes even though her wardrobe was small and now she got into her new boots with the smug feeling that she was looking her best. It was too cold to forego wearing a hat; she pulled a velvet beret on top of her bright hair, took a last look at her person in the spotty mirror behind the wardrobe door, gave Wellington a hug, picked up her bag and gloves, and prepared to go. It was five minutes over the hour and when she had peeped out of the window, she had seen the Rolls in the street below.
Nothing in her serene appearance gave any indication of her delight at seeing him as she replied to his good morning. She got into the car and asked without preamble: ‘Why did you want to see me—it is my day off…’
He ignored this. ‘Are you coming to Holland with us?’
She was being rushed; of course she would go, the prospect of spending a week in his company, even if surrounded by boys and presumably, his fiancée, was one not to be missed. But she hadn’t intended to tell him so soon, he might think she was eager… She said baldly: ‘Yes.’
‘Splendid. We shall go—let me see, on the seventeenth and come back on the twenty-first. Can you manage that?’
‘Well, I think so—I’ll get all the Christmas arrangements fixed up before then; Pat won’t mind—and we can get the actual decorations and extra food and things done easily a couple of days before Christmas.’
‘Good. We’ll drive over—it’s quicker in the long run. Bring warm clothes with you.’
He started the car and she said: ‘Yes, but that’s all settled then, isn’t it? There’s no need—I’ve some shopping, and I’m having lunch…’
‘With me, Julia, and I fancy you’ve just dreamed up the shopping.’
She had the grace to blush. ‘All the same,’ she said firmly, ‘this won’t do. I don’t care what you say about colleagues, if I were your fiancée I’d be hopping mad.’
‘I should hope you would be. I thought I’d made it clear that we have a deep and mutual regard for each other which nothing—I repeat nothing—can shake. Now shall we leave the subject alone once and for all?’
Julia said meekly, ‘Very well.’ And in an effort to bring the conversation on to a matter-of-fact plane, ‘It isn’t a very nice day, is it?’
They were driving towards the West End. ‘As regards the weather—no—otherwise I have no quarrel with it.’
She tried again. ‘It will soon be Christmas,’ and stopped because it was an idiotic thing to say.
The professor must have considered it idiotic as well, for he didn’t answer. He was going smoothly through side streets and it wasn’t until they were in New Oxford Street that he spoke again. ‘You have a passport?’
She stared out at the pavements, packed with shoppers. ‘Yes, I have.’
He grunted something and turned into one of the narrow side streets. ‘Where are we going?’ asked Julia.
‘I live near here.’
She kept quiet then while he turned into South Audley Street and then into another narrow street almost at its end. There were small elegant Regency houses on either side and he stopped at the end one.
Julia turned and looked at him. ‘You live here?’
He smiled a little. ‘Where did you think I lived—or perhaps you never thought about it?’
‘Oh, but of course I did,’ she said with a frankness which widened his smile. ‘Somewhere near St Anne’s, though heaven knows where—a service flat where you can eat in the restaurant on the ground floor.’
‘That makes me sound very lonely.’
‘Well, I thought you were until I met Nicholas.’ She added, ‘Bad tempered too and dreadfully aloof, only I don’t think you are at all. I’ve always thought you didn’t like me, so I took care…’ She bit her lip, for she had almost given herself away. She ended tamely: ‘It’s very pleasant here.’
‘Very. Come inside.’ They got out and crossed the narrow pavement and he opened his front door and ushered her inside.
The hall was larger than she had expected it to be, warmly carpeted in burgundy red, with several doors leading from it and a gracefully curving staircase leading to a small gallery above. There was a door beside the staircase and this opened as they went in and a woman came to meet them. She had a round face with blue eyes and iron grey hair screwed into an old-fashioned bun; the rest of her was round too, her ample proportions tidily confined in a dark dress and a print pinafore.
‘This is Martha,’ said the professor, and as Julia offered a hand, ‘I’ve brought Sister Mitchell, for coffee, Martha. Could we have it in the drawing room presently?’
‘Two ticks, Professor. Just let me take the young lady’s coat and show her the cloakroom.’
He nodded rather vaguely, tossed his coat on to a wall table and opened one of the doors. ‘I’ll be in here.’
Julia followed Martha down the hall to a door set under the stairs.
‘Everything you want there, Sister Mitchell. I’ll fetch the coffee.’
Julia took off her beret, did things to her hair and face and went back into the hall. A door was opened as she did so. ‘In here,’ said the professor, and she went past him into a room which made her catch her breath. It had windows at each end, draped with heavy silk curtains in Venetian red, they matched the thick carpet and made a delightful background for the rich cream and burgundy covers on the easy chairs and two sofas on either side of the marble fireplace. Under one window there was a delicate sofa table, flanked by small chairs upholstered in dark green, and the same green had been used for the cushions on the sofas. Small circular tables held reading lamps with cream silk shades and the bright fire shone and twinkled on the old-fashioned, highly polished brass fender and fire irons.
‘Oh, how very nice,’ said Julia, ‘it’s rude to say so, isn’t it? But it’s so charming.’
‘And unexpected?’ The professor was watching her with interest.
‘Oh, yes.’
‘You think that my wife will like it?’
Just for a few moments she had forgotten; his words made her catch her breath but she said steadily. ‘I’m quite sure she will, hasn’t she seen it yet?’
‘No.’
‘But it’s always been like this?’ And when he nodded she looked puzzled. Surely the girl would have come to his home at some time or other. A likely solution struck her. She would be Dutch, living in Holland and very likely not yet been in London. In which case who was the pretty girl she had seen outside the cinema? Curiosity got the better of discretion.
‘Then it’s not the girl I spoke to that evening—outside the cinema…’
He said calmly: ‘No it’s not, Julia.’
She nodded. ‘She’s in Holland of course. You’ll be seeing her when you go, that’ll be nice.’
Nice sounded a bit tepid but he echoed her blandly, ‘Very nice. Sit down, here’s the coffee.’
It was then that she noticed the small whiskered face peering round his legs. A foxy face with anxious beady eyes. ‘Ah, yes,’ went on the professor, ‘meet Digby—a little shy of strangers, I’m afraid, owing to a rather fraught puppyhood.’
Julia bent to pat the unruly thatch on the beast’s head and was struck by the enormous plume of a tail which waved gently as she tickled one ear.
‘He’s a dog of character. That’s a lovely tail.’
‘Much admired. He’s quite young, we’re not sure exactly how old he is.’
‘You found him?’
‘I removed him from unpleasant surroundings.’
‘Oh—a pond and a brick round his neck?’ she cried in horror.
‘Something like that. If you sit down I think he’ll make friends.’
She went obediently to one of the chairs grouped round the fire. There were two cats on one of the sofas; a splendid Burmese of impeccable pedigree and a moggy in a black and white coat with half an ear and round green eyes. The professor came to sit opposite her. He waved a large hand at the cats. ‘Ruby and Minou. They’re Nicky’s but while he’s away they have to put up with me.’
‘Ruby seems very suitable—but Minou…?’
‘There’s nothing like a dignified name. Will you pour the coffee?’
An hour passed quickly for Julia. She couldn’t remember afterwards what they had talked about but time had flown by, at the end of it Minou had settled on to her knee and Digby had come to nose her gently before taking up position on his master’s beautifully polished shoes.
She stirred and smiled across at her host. ‘What a lovely way to spend a morning doing nothing,’ she observed.
‘I must agree and all the better for it being so seldom. How about a walk before lunch?’
They went to Hyde Park, walking briskly across the grass while Digby frisked around them, coming to trot at their heels whenever anyone came too near. And they talked, at least, Julia did most of the talking, forgetful of everything save the delight of feeling completely at ease with someone, while the professor egged her on quietly and listened with a gleam in his eyes which she didn’t see.
They turned for home and presently sat down to a delicious lunch, served by a beaming Martha. Soup, hot and fragrant, lamb cutlets with a splendid variety of vegetables, and treacle pudding, light as air and smothered in the rich syrup. They drank hock and had coffee round the fire in the drawing room. Crossing the hall, Julia wished very much that she would be allowed to see the rest of the house; the dining room hadn’t disappointed her with its oval table of highly polished yew and its accompanying chairs with their simple sabre legs and upholstered seats. There was a sideboard too in the grecian style with tapering cupboards, and a narrow serving table against the other wall. The walls were panelled and the whole given colour by the sapphire blue curtains at the tall window and the pale apricot silk of the lamp shades. They drank their coffee in a companionable silence and presently she said, ‘I must be going. Thank you for having me to lunch, I—I enjoyed it very much.’
The professor put down his cup and saucer. ‘I have enjoyed it too. Must you go? You are perhaps bored with my company? I had hoped that you would stay to tea at least?’
‘I’m not bored,’ she told him forthrightly, ‘it’s lovely to be able to talk to someone…’
‘You miss young Longman?’
She shook her head slowly. ‘Not any more—just for a day or two but you see he liked to talk over his day’s work.’ She gave him a questioning look. ‘Don’t you ever want to talk about your day?’
‘Oh, yes, but Nicky is hardly old enough and Martha doesn’t believe in what she calls hospital nonsense.’
‘Oh, well when you are married you will have your wife to listen to you.’
‘I look forward to that. Nicky’s mother disliked my work intensely, I suspect that is why she left us.’
Julia turned a horrified face to him. ‘Left you? But you said that she had died…’
‘Very shortly after leaving us. She found us dull stuff, poor woman, and went to America and died within weeks of a virus pneumonia. We did all we could…’
It didn’t strike her how strange it was that he was letting her see into his private life after years of austere politeness. ‘Oh, Lauris, I’m so very sorry. How dreadful for you. And for Nicky.’
‘He hardly remembers her. He longs for a mother, though.’
‘He deserves the very best.’ She added recklessly, ‘And so do you.’
He gave her a small mocking smile. ‘Why Julia, you sound quite heated.’ The smile disappeared. ‘You of all people, with no happy future to look forward to at the moment.’
She bent her flushed face over Minou who had crept on to her lap again. ‘I really must go. I think I’d like to walk back.’
‘My dear girl, it’s all of four miles.’
‘Well, I’ll walk the first part of the way—as far as the British Museum, I can get a bus there, or the Underground.’
‘Not the Underground,’ he said sharply, ‘that’s no place for a pretty girl like you.’
She smiled kindly at him. ‘Look, I’m not a girl, I’m thirty and I’m not delicate or scared easily.’
‘Then may I walk with you? As far as the British Museum, and see you on to a bus?’ He spoke lightly, ignoring the plans he had had for a quiet dinner somewhere for the two of them.
‘I’d like that.’ She put the cat down gently and got up. ‘Do you take Digby?’
‘No, he doesn’t like busy streets and he’s had a good walk—I’ll take him for a stroll later on.’
They went through the quiet streets and squares, almost empty at that hour of the afternoon, but presently they turned into narrow busy streets running parallel with Oxford Street. It was already growing dark, for the clouds hadn’t lifted all day and the wind was cutting.
Julia said apologetically: ‘You must think I’m mad, walking in this weather.’
He took her arm. ‘No, I don’t. You’re walking away from something, aren’t you, Julia?’
Which was so exactly the truth that she had no answer.
They had turned up what was little more than an alley, so that they could gain Oxford Street and cross into Great Russell Street when they became aware of a good deal of noise and commotion ahead of them. The professor slowed his steps as the street ahead of them filled with people. There was a good deal of shouting and arm waving and the angry rumbling mutter of an ill-tempered crowd. The lane they were in, for it was little more than that, was lined with high brick walls and there were windowless buildings housing who knew what. There was nowhere for them to go and to walk on wouldn’t do at all. The professor pushed her gently up against a wall and stood in front of her. ‘And don’t dare to move,’ he advised her.
There was nothing further from her mind; his broad back sheltered her nicely even though she was big, and he was reassuringly calm. The crowd were almost upon them by now, pushing and shoving past them, shouting at them too, although she couldn’t hear what they were saying. Whatever it was, however, was bad tempered, and the temper seemed to be getting worse as the crowds progressed. Peeping round a massive shoulder she saw that the crowd was fighting as it swayed and stumbled past and she withdrew her head smartly as a blow was aimed at the professor, who calmly lifted an arm and diverted it without effort. She gave a shiver and his other hand came round to hold her arm for a moment in a reassuring grip. He needed it almost at once, though, to parry another blow.
This is really quite frightening, thought Julia and closed her eyes. She opened them again; if they were going to be knocked down and trampled on then she would be of more use to Lauris if she could see. The comforting thought he would never allow her to be trampled on cheered her considerably so that she didn’t notice the rough bricks of the wall she was pressed against and even managed to peep at the men and women streaming past her. They were running now and weren’t fighting any more and she saw why almost immediately; the police, solid, unhurried and calm, were at their heels. Minutes later, the crowd had gone and the last of the police. One of the officers had paused to ask if they were all right.
‘Quite unhurt, Officer,’ the professor assured him. ‘What was it? A demonstration of some sort?’
‘That’s right, sir. A few hotheads started something up and there’s always those that join in, half of them don’t know what it’s all about.’
He saluted smartly, smiled at Julia and went on his way.
‘Oh, my goodness,’ said Julia. She was pale, so that her green eyes seemed greener than ever. ‘That was something, wasn’t it? Thank heaven you were here. What would I have done?’
He laughed down at her. ‘Gone with them, of course, and slipped away when you had the chance. You’re not too crushed?’
‘No, I’m fine. You’re not hurt?’
He shook his head, and she smiled her relief. She was quite unprepared for his quick, fierce kiss.
Julia closed her eyes, just for a moment the dingy little side street became heaven. But only for a moment, she came sharply to earth again with the professor’s brisk, ‘No more nonsense about going back to your flat. We’re going back home to have tea round the fire, and I shall drive you back after dinner this evening.’
‘But,’ began Julia, unable to go on with whatever she had meant to say because of the speed at which she was being hauled towards Oxford Street. It was obvious to her that the professor had the bit between his teeth and nothing she could say would remove it. She gave up and skipped and half ran beside him. She could argue with him later.
He was a man to get a taxi at the lift of his finger. She was urged to get in and sat listening to the cabbie and the professor exchanging pungent views on demonstrations, lawful and unlawful. ‘Ain’t ‘arf bad fer business,’ grumbled the cabbie. ‘See anything of ’em?’
The professor assured him briefly that he had.
Martha came into the hall as the professor opened his front door.
‘Now that’s a good thing,’ she exclaimed cheerfully, ‘there’s muffins just out of the oven and a splendid Dundee cake I’ve no doubt it’s as good as the Queen herself could bake.’ She eyed Julia’s still pale countenance. ‘I’ll have that coat of yours, Miss, and you go and tidy yourself.’ Her manner was so motherly and cosy that Julia felt a strong urge to burst into tears, something she seldom did. She swallowed them back, did as she was bid and then joined the professor in his drawing room where a small table had been drawn up before the fire with the tea tray already upon it. It wasn’t until she was eating her second muffin and had re-filled their cups that the professor observed, ‘You weren’t frightened, Julia?’
She sank her splendid teeth into buttery richness. ‘Oh, yes, I was, to begin with, but you were there.’
The professor put down his cup. ‘Thank you, Julia.’ He smiled slowly and she looked away, reminding herself that he was almost a married man and she would have to be careful.
She said lightly, ‘You’re large you see.’
‘Yes, it does help. Cut the cake, will you? If we don’t eat at least a couple of slices I shall have Martha in tears.’
They sat and talked after the tea things had been cleared away, with the cats and Digby lined up between them. It seemed no time at all before the professor said, ‘How about a drink before dinner?’
‘Are you sure that you want me to stay? I mean, you didn’t expect me did you? You may have a date this evening…’
‘Don’t fish,’ he told her, ‘but set your mind at rest, I have no date. Occasionally I have a day off and I do absolutely nothing.’
‘Well, it’s very kind of you.’ She wrinkled her delightful nose. ‘Something smells delicious.’
He laughed. ‘I have no doubt Martha has excelled herself.’
Martha had. Avocado pears sharpened by a sauce of her own invention, sole veronique and a pineapple upside down pudding with lashings of cream. Julia put down her empty wine glass and said happily, ‘That was gorgeous. I think I must have a greedy nature.’
‘Nonsense. I’ve no patience with women who pick at a chicken bone with a tape measure in their hand, terrified to gain an ounce or two.’ He stared across the table at her. ‘I like women who look like women.’
He grinned so wickedly at her that she blushed, made aware of her own splendid shape. ‘I think I should be going back,’ she told him in what she hoped was a cool voice. ‘Wellington, you know…’
‘Of course, but we’ll have coffee first, shall we?’
But he made no attempt to delay her once they drank it. And beyond a few commonplace remarks as they drove back, he had little to say. At the flat she hesitated.
‘No, I won’t come in,’ he told her, unerringly reading her thoughts. ‘I have some work to do.’ He got out and went with her to the door and held it open until she had gone through after wishing him good night and muttering her thanks. Only when he heard her open and then close her own door at the top of the stairs did he close the street door and get back into his car. He didn’t drive away at once and Julia, going to draw the curtains, stood for a moment looking down at the Rolls. Everything was moving too fast for her, she thought distractedly. Within a few weeks she and Lauris had become friends, and it wasn’t just a casual relationship; it had got out of hand, she was so completely at ease with him and she was in danger of forgetting that she knew he was shortly to be married—to a woman who probably thought of her as his working colleague. Which of course she was, or had been. She thought back with wonder to the time when she had found him austere and stand offish. It would be nice, she thought wistfully, if she could have got herself back to that state again. There wasn’t any going back now though, she loved him and that was that. She wasn’t a woman to accept second best; she would have to remain unmarried and make the best of it. She watched the car draw away from the kerb and then turned away from the window to feed an impatient Wellington and put on the kettle. A cup of tea would hardly alter the situation but at least it made it a little easier to bear.
She was too restless to go to bed; she cleaned the flat and washed her hair and then sat with the kitten on her knee, doing nothing until she glanced at the clock and saw that it was almost midnight. She was on duty at eight o’clock in the morning and there were two lumbar punctures, a couple of barium meals and the physiotherapists would be steaming on to the ward, very bright and cheerful, to instil movement and hope into the more helpless of the patients. She went to bed then, trying to pin her thoughts down to tomorrow’s work, a hopeless task as they reverted time and again to Lauris. And when she did sleep at last it was to dream of him.