BRISKETT handed the doctor his post, informed him that there were a number of phone calls which needed to be dealt with at once, took the boys’ jackets and invited Araminta to go with him so that he might show her to her room.
‘The boys’ are in their usual room. They’d better come with you, miss; the doctor won’t want to be bothered for a bit. Had a good time, have you? Hope the boss took time off to show you round a bit.’
‘Well, yes, we went to Friesland.’
He turned to smile at her, his cheerful rat face split in a wide smile. ‘Nice to have him back again, miss. Here’s your room. Make yourself at home.’
It would be difficult not to feel at home in such a delightful room, thought Araminta, with its satinwood bed, tall chest and dressing table. The curtains and bedspread were white and pale yellow chintz, and someone had put a vase of freesias by the bed. The window overlooked the long narrow garden, with a high brick wall and trees screening it from its neighbours.
She would have liked to linger there, but the boys would need to be seen to. They had been good on the journey, but now they were tired and excited. Tea and an early bedtime were indicated, unless the doctor had other plans. She went to their room, tidied them up and took them downstairs.
The study, where she had first been interviewed by the doctor, had its door open. The doctor was at his desk, sitting back in his chair, on the phone, and speaking in Dutch. Araminta’s sharp ears heard that. He looked up as they went past.
‘Go into the sitting room. Briskett will have tea waiting. I’ll join you presently.’
So the boys led her across the hall into quite a small room, very cosy, where Briskett was putting the finishing touches to the tea table.
‘I’ve laid a table,’ he told her. ‘I don’t hold with little nippers balancing plates on their knees. Just you sit down, miss, and I’ll give the boss a call.’
The doctor joined them presently, ate a splendid tea and then excused himself with the plea of work. ‘I have to go out,’ he told the boys, ‘and I don’t think I’ll be back before you go to bed, but I’m not doing anything tomorrow morning; we will go to the park and feed the ducks.’ He glanced at Araminta. ‘I’m sure Miss Pomfrey will be glad of an hour or two to get your clothes unpacked.’ He added casually, ‘I expect you would like to let your parents know you are back in England; do ring them if you wish.’
She thanked him. ‘And, if you don’t mind, I’ll go and unpack the boys’ night things. I thought an early bedtime…’
‘Very wise. I’m sure Briskett will have something extra special for their supper.’
‘Perhaps I could have my supper at the same time with them?’
‘You would prefer that? Then by all means do so. I’ll let Briskett know. You’ll bathe them and have them ready for bed first? Shall I tell him seven o’clock?’
‘That would do very well, thank you.’ She hesitated. ‘Are you going out immediately? If you are, then I’ll wait and unpack later.’
He glanced at his watch. ‘Half an hour or so, but I need to change first.’
‘If I can have ten minutes?’
‘Of course.’
She unpacked the overnight bag, put everything ready in the boys’ bathroom and whisked herself back downstairs with a minute to spare. The doctor bade the boys goodnight, nodded to her and went away. She was in the boy’s room, which overlooked the street, when she heard him in the hall and went to look out of the window. He was getting into his car, wearing black tie, looking remarkably handsome.
‘I wonder when he gets any work done,’ reflected Araminta. ‘Talk about a social whirl.’ She knew that wasn’t fair, he worked long hours and he was good at it, but it relieved her feelings. She hoped lovingly that he wouldn’t stay out too late; he needed his sleep like anyone else…
She sighed; she had managed all day not to think too much about him and it had been made easier by his distant manner towards her, but loving him was something she couldn’t alter, even though it was hopeless. No one died of a broken heart; they went on living like everyone else and made a success of their lives. Something which she was going to do. But first she must learn to forget him, once she had left his house. Until then, surely it wouldn’t do any harm if she thought about him occasionally?
The boys came tumbling in then, and she allowed stern common sense to take over.
Life in London would be very different from that of Utrecht. For one thing there would be no school in the mornings.
Their parents would be returning in a few days now, and the boys were excited and full of high spirits; she filled the mornings with simple lessons and the afternoons with brisk walks, returning in time for tea and games before bedtime. The doctor was seldom at home; as Briskett put it, ‘Up early and home late. No time for anything but his work. Good thing he’s got a bit of social life of an evening. You know what they say, miss, “All work and no play”…’
But the doctor still found time to spend an hour with the boys each evening, although it was very evident that he had no time for Araminta. His brief good mornings and good evenings were the extent of his conversations with her. And what else did she expect? she asked herself.
They had been back in England for three days before he told her that the boys’ parents would be arriving in two days time.
‘Perhaps you would be good enough to remain for a day or so after their return; my sister is bound to wish to talk to you, and their clothes and so on will need to be packed up. She will be glad of your help.’
Three days, thought Araminta, four at the outside, and after that I shan’t see him again. ‘Of course I’ll stay on, if Mrs Ingram wishes me to,’ she told him.
She was surprised when he asked, ‘You will go home? Your people expect you?’
‘Yes.’ She didn’t add that they would probably still be away. Her cousin would be there, of course, and she supposed she would stay there until she heard from the hospital. Which reminded her to add, ‘You told me that there was a chance that I might be accepted at the hospital…’
‘Ah, yes. It slipped my memory. There is indeed a vacancy; one of the students has left owing to illness. If you can start within a few days and are prepared to work hard in order to catch up with the other students you will be accepted.’
She should have been elated. He had made everything easy for her; she could embark on her plans for a nursing career. And it had been so unimportant to him that he had forgotten to tell her.
‘That is what you wanted?’ He had spoken so sharply that she hurried to say that, yes, there was nothing she wished for more.
‘I’m very grateful,’ she added. ‘Is there anything that I should do about it?’
‘No, no. You will receive a letter within the next day or two. And you have no need to be grateful. You have been of great help while the boys have been with me. They will miss you.’
The doctor spoke with an austere civility which chilled her, but he was aware as he said it that he would miss her too: her small cheerful person around the house, her quiet voice which could on occasion become quite sharp with annoyance. He had a sudden memory of her weeping into his shoulder and found himself thinking of it with tenderness…
He chided himself silently for being a sentimental fool. Miss Pomfrey had fulfilled a much needed want for a few weeks, and he was grateful for that, but once she had gone he would forget her.
Mr and Mrs Ingram duly arrived, late in the afternoon. It was a chilly October day, with a drizzling rain, and Araminta had been hard pushed to keep the boys happy indoors. But at last they shouted to Araminta from their perch by the front windows that their uncle’s car had just arrived with their mother and father.
‘Then off you go downstairs, my dears. Go carefully.’
She went to the window when they had gone, in time to see Mr and Mrs Ingram enter the house, followed at a more leisurely pace by the doctor. They would all have tea, she supposed, and sat down quietly to wait until Briskett brought her own tea tray. She had sought him out that morning and he had agreed with her that it might be a good idea if she were to have her tea in her room.
‘The boys will be so excited, and they will all have so much to talk about that I won’t be needed,’ she had pointed out.
He came presently with the news that there was a fine lot of talk going on downstairs and she hadn’t been missed.
‘They’ll send for you presently, miss, when they’re over the first excitement,’ he assured her. ‘The boss’ll want you there to give a report, as it were.’ He gave her a friendly nod. ‘Sets great store on you, he does.’
She drank her tea and nibbled at a cake, her usually splendid appetite quite gone. She would start packing this evening, once the boys were in bed, so that when she had done all she could do to help Mrs Ingram, she would be able to leave at once.
She was pouring another cup of tea when the door opened and the doctor came in.
‘I didn’t hear you knock,’ said Araminta in her best Miss Pomfrey voice.
‘My apologies. Why did you not come downstairs to tea?’
‘It’s a family occasion.’
He leaned forward and took a cake and ate it—one of Briskett’s light-as-air fairy cakes—and the simple act turned him from a large, self-assured man into a small boy.
Araminta swallowed the surge of love which engulfed her. However would she be able to live without him?
The doctor finished his cake without haste. ‘You have finished your tea? Then shall we go downstairs?’
She shot him a look and encountered a bland stare. There was nothing for it but to do as he asked. How is it possible, she thought, to love someone who is so bent on having his own way? She accompanied him downstairs to the drawing room, to be warmly greeted by the boys’ parents. Presently Mrs Ingram drew her on one side.
‘They were good?’ she wanted to know anxiously. ‘Peter and Paul can be perfect little horrors…’ She said it with love.
‘Well, they weren’t; they have been really splendid—very obedient and helpful and never bored.’
‘Oh, good. I expect you’re longing to go home. Could you stay over tomorrow and help me pack their things?’
‘Yes, of course. You must be glad to be going home again. I know the boys will be, although they enjoyed living in Utrecht. It seemed like a second home to them.’
‘Well, they love Marcus, of course, and since they’ve both spoken Dutch and English ever since they could utter words they don’t feel strange. I’m sure they will have a lot to tell us. You were happy in Holland?’
‘Oh, yes. I enjoyed it very much…’
‘Marcus tells me that you’re to start nursing training very shortly. That’s something you want to do?’ Mrs Ingram smiled. ‘No boyfriend?’
‘No, I expect I’m meant to be a career girl!’
If Mrs Ingram had any opinion about that she remained silent, and presently Araminta took the boys off to bed and supper, before slipping away to her room while their parents came to say goodnight. This was a lengthy business, with a great deal of giggling and talk until they consented to lie down and go to sleep. Excitement had tired them out; they slept in the instant manner of children and she was free to go to her room and change her dress.
She excused herself as soon as she decently could after dinner; it had been a pleasant meal, and she had borne her part in the conversation when called upon to do so, but although the talk had been general, she had no doubt that her company hindered the other three from any intimate talk.
She was bidden a friendly goodnight and the doctor got up to open the door for her. She went past him without a look and went off to her room and started to pack her things. Tomorrow she knew that she would be kept busy getting the boys’ clothes packed. She felt lonely; Humphrey’s company would have been welcome, but of course he was miles away in Utrecht. So she was forced to talk to herself.
‘I’m perfectly happy,’ she assured herself. ‘My future is settled, I have money, I shall make friends with the other nurses, and in a year or two I shall be able to pick and choose where I mean to work.’ Not London. The chance of meeting the doctor was remote but, all the same, not to be risked.
There was no one at breakfast when she went down with the boys: the doctor had already left and Mr and Mrs Ingram weren’t yet down. They had almost finished when they joined them. Araminta left the boys with them and at Mrs Ingram’s suggestion began the task of packing up for the boys. They were to leave that evening but first they were to go shopping with their father and mother. So Araminta had a solitary lunch and spent the afternoon collecting up the boys’ toys and tidying them away into various boxes. They were to be driven home by the doctor directly after tea, and she had been asked to have everything ready by then.
Briskett, going round the house retrieving odds and ends for her to pack, was of the opinion that the house would be very dull once they had gone. ‘And you’ll be leaving, miss—we shall miss you, too. Very quiet, it’ll be.’
‘I expect the doctor will be quite glad to have the house to himself,’ said Araminta.
‘Well, now, as to that, I’d venture to disagree, miss. The boss is fond of children and you’ve fitted in like a glove on a hand.’
She thanked him gravely. He was a kind little man, despite his ratty looks, and he was devoted to the doctor. ‘Maybe you’ll be back, miss,’ said Briskett, to her surprise.
‘Me? Oh, I don’t think so, Briskett. You mean as a governess when the doctor marries and has children? By then I’ll be a trained nurse and probably miles away.’
It took some time for the doctor to get his party settled with their possessions in the car and still longer for them to make their goodbyes. The boys hugged and kissed Araminta and rather silently handed her a parcel, painstakingly wrapped in fancy paper. Seeing the look on their small faces, she begged to be allowed to open it there and then.
‘They chose it themselves,’ said their mother rather apologetically.
It was a coffret of face cream, powder and lipstick, and a little bottle of scent. When Araminta exclaimed over it, Peter said, ‘We know you’re not pretty, but these things will make you beautiful. The lady behind the counter said so.’
‘It’s just exactly what I’ve always wanted,’ declared Araminta, ‘and thank you both very much for thinking of such a lovely present. I’ll use it every day and I’m sure I’ll be beautiful in no time at all.’
She hugged them both, told them to be good boys and then watched with Briskett as they all got into the car, parcels and packages squashed into the back seat with the boys and their mother. They all waved and smiled, but not the doctor, of course; he raised a casual hand as he drove away but he didn’t turn his head.
Araminta finished her packing, ate a solitary dinner and decided to go to bed. There was no sign of the doctor; probably he would stay the night at his sister’s house. She was halfway up the stairs when he came in and Briskett appeared in the hall to offer supper.
‘No, no, I’ve had a meal, thanks, Briskett, but will you see to the car? I’ll be in my study.’
He glanced at Araminta, poised on the stairs. ‘Miss Pomfrey, if you would spare me a few minutes…?’
She went with him to his study and sat down in the chair he offered her.
‘You’ve had the letter from the hospital?’ And when she said yes, he went on, ‘Briskett will drive you to your home in the morning. I expect you are anxious to get back. Is there anything you want to know about your appointment as a student nurse? I presume you have been given instructions?’
‘Yes, thank you. There is no need for Briskett to drive me…’
He said in a level voice, ‘If you will just tell him when you are ready to leave, Miss Pomfrey. I shall see you in the morning before you go. I won’t keep you now; you must be tired.’
She got up quickly. ‘Yes, yes, I am. Goodnight, Doctor.’
His goodnight was very quiet.
She went down to breakfast after a wakeful night to find that the doctor had been called away very early in the morning. ‘Not knowing when he’ll be back, he said not to wait for him, miss. I’ll have the car round as soon as you’ve had breakfast.’
Araminta crumbled toast onto her plate and drank several cups of coffee. Now she would never say goodbye to the doctor. Possibly he had left the house early, so that he might avoid a last meeting. She had no idea what she had expected from it, but at least she had hoped that they would part in a friendly fashion. She went suddenly hot and cold at the idea that he might have guessed that she had fallen in love with him. Now her one thought was to leave his house as quickly as possible…her one regret that Hambledon wasn’t thousands of miles away.
It was almost noon when Briskett drew up before her home, took her case from the boot and followed her up the path to the front door.
‘Looks empty,’ he observed. ‘Expecting you, are they?’
‘My mother and father are in Wales on a lecture tour. A cousin is staying here, though—housekeeping now that I’m not at home.’
Briskett took the key from her and opened the door. There were letters on the doormat and an open note on the hall table. His sharp eyes had read it before Araminta had seen it. ‘Gone with Maud—’ Maud was a friend of Millicent, the cousin ‘—for a couple of days. Good luck with your new job.’
He was bending over her case as she saw it and read it.
‘Where will I put this, miss? I’ll take it upstairs for you.’
‘Thank you, Briskett. It’s the room on the left on the landing. Will you stay while I make a cup of tea? I’d offer you lunch, but I’m not quite sure…’
‘A cuppa would be fine, miss.’
Briskett hefted the case and went upstairs. Nice little house, he decided, and some nice furniture—good old-fashioned stuff, no modern rubbish. But the whole place looked unlived-in, as though no one much bothered about it. He didn’t like leaving Miss Pomfrey alone, but she hadn’t said anything about the note so he couldn’t do much about that.
He went down to the kitchen, again old-fashioned but well equipped, and found her making the tea.
‘I’ve found some biscuits,’ she told him cheerfully. ‘Will you get back in time to make lunch for yourself?’
‘Easy, miss, there won’t be all that much traffic.’ He eyed Cherub, who had come in though the kitchen window she had opened and was making much of Araminta.
‘Nice cat. Yours, is he?’
‘Yes, I found him. Have another biscuit. I shall miss Humphrey in Utrecht…’
Briskett’s long thin nose quivered. ‘I’m sure he’ll miss you. Pity the boss wasn’t home. Beats me, it does, him at the top of the tree, so to speak, and still working all the hours God made.’
When he had gone Araminta unpacked. Presently she would sort out her clothes and repack, ready to leave the next day, but for now she went to inspect the fridge. Even those with broken hearts needed to be fed.
As the doctor let himself into his house that evening Briskett came into the hall.
‘A bit on the late side, aren’t you?’ he observed. ‘Had a busy day, I’ll be bound. I’ve a nice little dinner ready for you.’
‘Thanks, Briskett. You took Miss Pomfrey back to her home?’
Briskett nodded. ‘There’s a nice young lady for you. I didn’t fancy leaving her in that empty house.’ He met the doctor’s sudden blue stare and went on, ‘Her ma and pa are in Wales. There’s a cousin or some such looking after the house, but she’d gone off for a few days. Only living thing to greet us was a tatty old cat.’
He watched the doctor’s face; he really looked quite ferocious but he didn’t speak. Briskett reckoned he was pretty angry…
‘Nice house,’ he went on. ‘Small, some nice stuff though, good and solid, a bit old-fashioned. Nice bits of silver and china too.’ He paused to think. ‘But it weren’t a home.’
And, when the doctor still remained silent, ‘We had a cuppa together—very concerned, she was, about me not having my dinner.’
‘Did Miss Pomfrey tell you that this cousin was away?’
‘Not a word. I happened to see the note on the table.’
‘She seemed quite happy?’
‘Now, as to that, Boss, I wouldn’t like to venture an opinion.’
He hesitated, cautious of the doctor’s set face. ‘I’d have brought her back, but that wouldn’t have done, would it?’
‘No, Briskett, it wouldn’t have done at all. You did right. Miss Pomfrey will be going to St Jules’ tomorrow, and I dare say this cousin will have returned by then.’
The doctor went into his study and sat down at his desk, staring at the papers on it, not seeing them. I miss her, he thought. I can’t think why. She has no looks, she wears drab clothes, she has at times a sharp tongue and yet her voice is delightful and she is kind and patient and sensible. And she has beautiful eyes.
He drew the papers towards him and picked up his pen. This feeling of loss is only temporary, he mused. She has been a member of the household for some weeks; one gets used to a person. I shall forget her completely in a few weeks.
He went to his solitary dinner then, agreeing with Briskett that it was pleasant to have a quiet house once more. Now he would be able to prepare the notes on the learned treatise he was writing without the constant interference of small boys’ voices—and Mintie’s voice telling them to hush.
He went to his desk after dinner but he didn’t write a word, his mind occupied with thoughts of Araminta, alone at her home with only a cat for company. There was no use trying to work, so he took himself for a brisk walk and went to bed—but he didn’t sleep.
Araminta had had a boiled egg and some rather stale bread for a late lunch, fed Cherub, put on the washing machine and started packing again. She was to report to the hospital at two o’clock the next day and, since there was no indication as to when her cousin would return, she went down the lane to Mrs Thomas’s little cottage and asked her to feed Cherub.
‘I’ll leave the food out for you in the shed. If you wouldn’t mind feeding him twice a day? I’ve no idea when my cousin will be back…’
Mrs Thomas listened sympathetically. ‘Don’t you worry, dear, I’ll look after him. He’s got the cat flap so’s he can get into the house, hasn’t he?’
‘Yes. I hate leaving him, but there’s nothing I can do about it.’
‘Well, she only went yesterday morning, I saw the car…and your mother and father will be back soon, I dare say?’
‘I’m not sure when.’
It wasn’t very satisfactory, as she explained to Cherub later, but surely someone would come home soon. Besides, she would have days off. She cheered up at the thought.
Her mother phoned in the evening. ‘I thought you might be home,’ she said vaguely. ‘I expect you’re happy to be starting at St Jules’. You see that we were right, my dear. This little job you have had hasn’t made any difference at all, just a few weeks’ delay. I’m sure you’ll have no difficulty in catching up with the other students. Your father and I will be coming home very shortly. I can’t say exactly when. The tour is such a success we may extend it. Is your cousin there?’
Araminta started to say that she wasn’t, but her mother had already begun to tell her about some remarkable Celtic documents they had been examining. It took a long time to explain them and when she had finished Mrs Pomfrey said a hurried goodbye. ‘I have so much to think of,’ she explained. ‘I’ll send a card when we are coming home.’
St Jules’ Hospital was old, although it had been added to, patched up and refurbished from time to time. It was a gloomy place, looming over the narrow streets surrounding it, but the entrance hall was handsome enough, with portraits of dead and gone medical men on its panelled walls and the handsome staircase sweeping up one side of it. A staircase which no one except the most senior staff were allowed to tread.
Araminta was bidden to take herself and her case to the nurses’ home, reached by a rather dark tunnel at the back of the hall. There was a door at the other end and when she opened it cautiously she found herself in a small hallway with stairs ahead of her and a door marked ‘Office’ at one side.
It seemed sense to knock, and, bidden to go in, she opened the door.
The woman behind the small desk was middle-aged with a pale face and colourless hair, wearing a dark maroon uniform.
‘Araminta Pomfrey? Come in and shut the door. I’ll take you to your room presently. You can leave your outdoor things there before you go to see the Principal Nursing Officer.’ She shuffled through a pile of papers.
‘Here is a list of rules. You are expected to keep them while you live here. When you have completed your first year you will be allowed to live out if you wish. No smoking or drinking, no men visitors unless they visit for some good reason.’
She drew a form from a pile on the desk. ‘I’ll check your particulars. You are twenty-three? A good deal older than the other students. Unmarried? Parents living? British by birth?’ She was ticking off the items as she read them. ‘Is that your case? We will go to your room.’
They climbed the stairs, and then another flight to the floor above, and the woman opened a door halfway down a long corridor. ‘You’ll have your own key, of course. You will make your bed and keep your room tidy.’
The room was small and rather dark, since its window overlooked a wing of the hospital, but it was furnished nicely and the curtains and bedcover were pretty. There was a washbasin in one corner and a built-in wardrobe.
Araminta was handed a key. She asked, ‘What should I call you? You are a sister?’
‘I am the warden—Miss Jeff.’ She looked at her watch. ‘Come back to my office in ten minutes and I’ll take you for your interview.’
Left alone, Araminta turned her back on the view from the window, took off her jacket and tidied her hair. She hoped she looked suitably dressed; her skirt was too long for fashion, but her blouse was crisply ironed and her shoes were well polished. She went out of the room, locked the door, put the key in her shoulder bag and found her way to Miss Jeff.
The Principal Nursing Officer’s office was large, with big windows draped with velvet curtains, a carpet underfoot and a rather splendid desk. She herself was just as elegant. She was a tall woman, still good-looking, dressed in a beautifully tailored suit. She shook Araminta’s hand, and told her crisply that she was fortunate that there had been an unexpected vacancy.
‘Which I could have filled a dozen times, but Dr van der Breugh is an old friend and very highly thought of here in the hospital. He assured me that you had given up your place in order to cope with an emergency in his family.’ She smiled. ‘You are a lucky young woman to have such an important sponsor.’ She studied Araminta’s face. ‘I hope that you will be happy here. I see no reason why you shouldn’t be. You will work hard, of course, but you will make friends. You are older than the other student nurses, but I don’t suppose that will make any difference.’
She nodded a friendly dismissal and Araminta went back to her room, where she unpacked and took a look at the uniform laid out on the bed. It was cotton, in blue and white stripes with a stiff belt, and there was a little badge she was to wear pinned on her chest with her name on it.
The warden had told her to go down to the canteen for her tea at four o’clock. She made her way back down the stairs and into the hospital, down more stairs into the basement. The canteen was large, with a long counter and a great many tables—most of them occupied. Araminta went to the counter, took a tray, loaded it with a plate of bread and butter and a little pot of jam, collected her tea and then stood uncertainly for a moment, not sure where she should sit. There was a variety of uniforms, so she looked for someone wearing blue and white stripes.
Someone gave her a little shove from behind. ‘New, are you?’
The speaker was a big girl, wearing, to Araminta’s relief, blue and white stripes, and when she nodded, she said, ‘Come with me, we have to sit with our own set—the dark blue are sisters, the light blue are staff nurses. Don’t go sitting with them.’
She led the way to the far end of the room to where several girls were sitting round a table. ‘Here’s our new girl,’ she told them. ‘What’s your name?’
‘Araminta Pomfrey.’
Several of the girls smiled, and one of them said, ‘What a mouthful. Sister Tutor isn’t going to like that.’
‘Everyone calls me Mintie.’
‘That’s more like it. Sit down and have your tea. Any idea which ward you are to go to in the morning?’
‘No. Whom do I ask?’
‘No one. It’ll be on the board outside this place; you can look presently. Have you unpacked? Supper’s at eight o’clock if you’re off duty. What room number are you? I’ll fetch you.’
‘Thank you.’
The big girl grinned. ‘My name’s Molly Beckett.’ She waved a hand. ‘And this is Jean, and that’s Sue in the corner…’ She named the girls one by one.
‘We’re all on different wards, but not all day, we have lectures and demonstrations. You’ll be run off your feet on the ward, and heaven help you if Sister doesn’t like you.’ She got up. ‘We’re all on duty now, but I’m off at six o’clock; I’ll see you then. Come with us and we’ll look at the board.’
There was a dismayed murmur as they crowded round to look for Araminta’s name.
‘Baxter’s,’ said Molly. ‘That’s Sister Spicer. I don’t want to frighten you, but look out for her, Mintie. She’s got a tongue like a razor and if she takes a dislike to you you might as well leave.’
Araminta went back to her room, put her family photos on the dressing table, arranged her few books on the little shelf by the bed and sat down to think. She had very little idea of what hospital life would be like and she had to admit that Sister Spicer didn’t sound very promising. But she was a sensible girl and it was no use thinking about it too much until she had found her feet.
The other girls seemed very friendly, and she would be free for a few hours each day, and she could go home each week. She allowed her thoughts to wander. What was the doctor doing? she wondered. Had he missed her at all? She thought it unlikely. I must forget him, she told herself firmly. Something which should be easy, for she would have more than enough to think about.
Molly came presently and, since it wasn’t time for supper, took her on a tour of the home, explaining where the different wards were and explaining the off duty. ‘You’ll get a couple of evenings off each week. Trouble is, you’re too tired to do much. Otherwise it’s a couple of hours in the morning or in the afternoon. Days off are a question of luck. We come bottom of the list, though if you’ve got a decent sister she’ll listen if you want special days.’
The canteen was full and very noisy at suppertime. Araminta ate her corned beef and salad and the stewed apple and custard which followed it, drank a cup of strong tea and presently went to the sitting room for the more junior nursing staff. Molly had gone out for the rest of her free evening and she couldn’t see any of the other girls she had met at tea. She slipped away and went to her room, had a bath and got into bed.
She told herself that it would be all right in the morning, that it was just the sudden drastic change in her lifestyle which was making her feel unhappy. She lay thinking about the doctor, telling herself that once she started her training she wouldn’t let herself think of him again.
Marcus van der Breugh, dining with friends, bent an apparently attentive ear to his dinner companion while he wondered what Mintie was doing. He had told her that he didn’t think she would make a good nurse and he very much feared that he was right. Possibly it was this opinion which caused his thoughts to return to her far too frequently.