DIANA SIBLEY had switched on her most charming smile, which was a pity, since it was quite wasted on Euphemia. ‘Miss Blackstock, I’ve been dying to meet you—you’re our guardian angel, you know, letting us have this darling house. I simply couldn’t face the idea of living in an hotel every time Tane had to come to London.’ She added carelessly, ‘My parents’ place is in Hertfordshire—there’s room enough for us both to live there while we’re in England, but Tane doesn’t want to do that.’ She gave him an arch look. ‘He doesn’t like the idea of sharing me with anyone, do you, darling?’
Euphemia was pleased to see that the doctor looked extremely uncomfortable and, behind his bland face, angry. She had no doubt that he was clenching his teeth in an effort not to tell his beloved to hush up. She said sweetly: ‘I’m so glad you like the house. I’m sure you would rather be here with the doctor than with your family.’
Diana put a thin useless-looking hand on the doctor’s sleeve. ‘Not until we’re married.’ She made big eyes at them in turn. Dr van Diederijk richly deserved her, thought Euphemia as Diana went on: ‘Tane wasn’t going to ask you, but I insisted, and I so hoped you’d come. You’re awfully brave, in your place I couldn’t have done it.’ She shuddered and gave Euphemia another smile, although her eyes were like dark pebbles and just as hard. ‘I expect you’re very strong, you must be to be a nurse.’ She studied Euphemia smilingly with her head on one side. ‘Anyone over eight stone seems huge to me,’ she confided.
Euphemia’s tawny eyes travelled slowly down Diana’s spare frame. ‘Not really,’ she said cheerfully, ‘just normal.’ She saw the girl’s mouth tighten with annoyance and added: ‘So nice to have met you—and now I must just say hello to some of the people I know here.’ She put out a hand. ‘Thank you for asking me—I must go very soon, I’m on duty early in the morning.’ She included the doctor in her smile, dropped a kiss on Dr Bell’s cheek and crossed the room to join some friends. Diana, left alone with her fiancé, watched her, instantly surrounded by welcoming cries. ‘Anyone would think she owned the place,’ she declared thinly.
The doctor gave her a thoughtful look. ‘But, my dear, she does,’ he pointed out.
Euphemia left a few minutes later, seen politely to the door by her host. She uttered the usual banalities about a pleasant evening, how nice to meet his fiancée and she did hope that he would be happy there; she altered that to ‘you both’ in the same breath, then because he didn’t say anything and she felt awkward standing there in the open doorway being stared at in such silence she went on: ‘I expect you’re looking for a house to suit you both for—later on when you’re married…’
‘You are free to expect anything you wish, Euphemia.’
She went past him and started down the drive to the gate, neatly mended now, she noticed. A great many things she would like to say to him were jostling for a place on her tongue, but she held it prudently. After all, she needed the rent money and the likelihood of seeing him again was remote.
Not remote at all. Sir Richard, doing his morning round on the following morning, brought Dr van Diederijk with him. The two gentlemen trod with deliberation into the ward, followed by the Medical Registrar, the House Physician, the Social Worker, a physiotherapist and a clutch of selfconscious students, and Euphemia, advancing to meet them with her staff nurse and one of the lesser fry clutching the patients’ notes, came to a rather abrupt halt at the sight of him.
‘You know each other, of course,’ observed Sir Richard airily. ‘Tenant and landlady, as it were, Sister. Dr van Diederijk has joined the consultant staff here, so you will see him from time to time, though not as often as we would wish for as he has commitments at St Chad’s as well as Birmingham and Edinburgh, not to mention his appointments in Holland.’
Euphemia murmured suitably, cast a quick glance at the Dutchman and discovered him to be smiling faintly. It wasn’t a very friendly smile, she decided; possibly he was amused at having taken her by surprise. She smiled in her turn in a wintry sort of way and then led on to the first bed.
It took her less than ten minutes to discover that Dr van Diederijk the doctor was somewhat different from the man. There was no sign of the cold arrogance or the bland mockery which she had encountered; he was calmly assured, ready to listen to the patients’ sometimes rambling accounts of their illnesses, making no effort to steal Sir Richard’s thunder, although it was obvious that he knew what he was about, making quiet, pertinent observations and questioning the students and getting far more answers than his colleague, who enjoyed a reputation for terrifying his students, anyway. He spoke seldom to her and then only to question treatment, addressing her in a cool, impersonal voice as though they had met for the first time. Standing patiently while the two men bent over the next patient, Mr Rumbold, admitted that morning with acute nephritis, she imagined him living at Myrtle House, sitting in the drawing-room, wandering round the garden, eating his solitary meals in the dining-room—not that he would be solitary for long once his Diana had got him to the altar. It was strange that they hadn’t married. There was no reason why they shouldn’t; he could support a wife in comfort, she imagined, and Diana had all the hallmarks of a girl who had led a leisured life with enough money to spend. The only reason she could think of was that they didn’t really love one another enough to bother.
She was interrupted in these musings by Dr van Diederijk, asking her in a voice of exaggerated patience if he might have the X-rays of the patient he was examining. They were almost at the end of the round. Euphemia decided suddenly that she didn’t want to have coffee with him and Sir Richard; she beckoned Staff Willis, whispered in her ear and led her party to the next and last bed.
Ten minutes later pouring her own coffee after serving the two men, she looked up with well simulated surprise as Willis knocked on the door of her office and asked if she could come into the ward.
‘Anything urgent, Staff?’ enquired Sir Richard.
Willis looked startled. A nice girl, but no imagination, thought Euphemia crossly. She said quickly before Willis could put her foot in it. ‘I’ll take a look, sir, and let you know.’ She smiled at the two men and went to the door. Dr van Diederijk got to his feet as she edged past him. ‘A pity, Sister,’ he said pleasantly. ‘I was hoping for a chance to renew our acquaintance—some other time, perhaps.’
She had no choice but to look at him. He was smiling his nasty little smile again, just as though he knew… She said snappily: ‘Yes, of course, sir,’ and swept out of the little room.
She stayed in the ward for five minutes and then went back to her office. If she remained away longer than that they might come to see what was keeping her. She had timed it very nicely; they were on the point of going. She assured them that the matter had been a trivial one and escorted them to the door, bidding them goodbye before nipping back into the office to drink her cooling coffee.
She went down to Middle Wallop for her next days off, driving the Morris after coming off duty in the early evening. It had been a warm day and the sky was hazy with a hint of thunder in the air. Once on the M3 she urged the Morris to its utmost speed, glad when she was past the turning she would have taken if she had been going home to Hampton-cum-Spyway. Lightning was streaking the sky as she switched to the A30 and she felt relief that another twenty miles or so would see her safely at her aunt’s house. Once through Stockbridge she took the narrow road running alongside the river, going a good deal more slowly. The village was a fair size, set amongst rolling countryside. Euphemia turned away from its centre into a quiet lane behind the church and stopped outside a small house with plastered walls and a thatched roof. The thatch was in sad need of repair, but to a casual passer-by it was a charming place. Only Aunt Thea knew how awkward it was to run, with open fires and a temperamental boiler for the hot water and a leak in the roof when it rained too hard, but it had been her home all her married life and now that she was a widow, the idea of leaving it for something easier and modern never entered her head. She came to the door now, smiling and welcoming, and a moment later Ellen joined her. Euphemia, walking up the short path to meet them, was relieved to see how well her sister looked. This was the kind of life she should lead, obviously; she had always been a timid child and a shy young woman, but she looked relaxed and happy. Euphemia gave her a great hug and then kissed her aunt. ‘How marvellous you both look,’ she declared. ‘I think I shall give up my job and rusticate.’
She had meant it as a joke, but Ellen said at once: ‘Oh, I so wish you could, Phemie—it’s such fun being here.’ She added uncertainly: ‘But of course you wouldn’t, would you?’
‘No, love, I like my job, you know.’ She could have added that they would have all been in Queer Street if she gave it up, but she didn’t; to have disturbed Ellen’s newfound serenity would have been cruel.
It was over their late supper that Aunt Thea mentioned the new curate, nodding and smiling at Euphemia as she explained about Ellen doing the church flowers and helping with the village play-group. Euphemia, too practical to allow herself to daydream, nonetheless had an instant mental picture of Ellen floating down the aisle on the curate’s arm. That sort of thing happened in novels, but it would be nice, she thought, if it could happen just once in real life for her sister. And for me too, she thought wistfully—to dismiss the idea at once. For the time being at least, what she needed was money, not romance. It struck her forcibly that by the time she had the finances straight she would be looking middle age in the face and rather past the romance bit. ‘Oh, well,’ she muttered, and sighed, so that Aunt Thea wanted to know if she had a headache.
Her two days of freedom went too quickly, pottering round the house, taking Gyp, her aunt’s elderly spaniel, for a sedate walk, going with Ellen to look at the church, where they found the curate contemplating the west window and obviously waiting for them. He seemed a nice young man, rather quiet and solemn, but he had honest blue eyes and a kind mouth and he was right for Ellen, that was plain to Euphemia, and she only hoped that something would come of it. Probably it would, she decided hopefully. Neither Ellen nor the curate were the type to fall in love lightly. She had made some excuse to go on to the village on a mythical errand and left them together.
London, when she reached it, was hot and humid and teeming. She pushed the Morris doggedly through the traffic, reached the hospital and parked in the yard at the back. The car park for staff was full, as usual, so she would have to come down later and move the car before she went off duty that evening. She got out reluctantly, dragged her overnight bag from the back seat and put it on the ground while she wrestled with the car door. The lock jammed from time to time, and it was jamming now; luckily she had time and to spare. She opened her bag and found a nail file and set to work on the lock’s inside, poking and prodding with the expertise of long practice. She was halfway there when Dr van Diederijk’s voice came from behind her.
‘I won’t offer to help,’ he observed blandly, ‘because I can see that you know exactly what you’re about.’ He added annoyingly: ‘You need a new car.’
Euphemia gave him a fiery look. ‘We’re not all as rich…’ she stopped abruptly: being rude wasn’t going to help, and who knew, perhaps he might rent her home for another year.
‘Just so, Euphemia.’ He read her thoughts so unerringly that she went a guilty red and rammed the nail file into the lock so hard that it snapped in two. He took the pieces from her without a word, produced a penknife and finished the job for her. ‘If not a new car, a new lock,’ he suggested silkily.
‘Thanks!’ She banged the car door shut and turned away, to find him beside her. ‘You had a pleasant time with your aunt?’ he asked gently.
She gave him a surprised look. ‘How did you know?…’ she began.
‘Oh, a chance remark from someone or other. Pretty country round the Wallops, although it’s charming at Hampton-cum-Spyway. I’m very satisfied with your home, Euphemia.’
‘I’m glad to hear it, Doctor. And now, if you don’t mind, I haven’t much time…’
He glanced at his watch. ‘On duty at two o’clock?’ he wanted to know. ‘Half an hour for your meal, and that leaves almost an hour in which to change. You surprise me, you hadn’t struck me as being one of those fussy young women who take hours to dress.’
‘I don’t think you meant that as a compliment,’ she observed tartly, ‘but even the plainest of us are improved with a little attention to detail.’
He smiled slowly. ‘Now, when have I ever called you plain, Euphemia?’
He held open a side door for her and she skipped inside, annoyed that he was laughing at her, and she didn’t reply to his quiet goodbye.
There were a number of really ill patients on the ward and she had little time to ruminate over her affairs. Once or twice she found herself thinking about Dr van Diederijk and his frightful fiancée. Miss Diana Sibley was like the Other Woman in a bad novel. Euphemia wondered what on earth had made him propose to her in the first place—certainly not her money, from all accounts he had more than enough of that, and although she was pretty in a washed-out sort of way, without her beautiful clothes and clever make-up she would be a very ordinary girl indeed.
Euphemia shook her head, lost in wonderment that a man with the good looks Dr van Diederijk had should fall for such a girl. ‘Not that looks are anything to go by,’ she told herself aloud. ‘Look what a tiresome man he is behind that handsome face!’ And then: ‘And you can stop thinking about him, my girl, or you’ll end up liking him after all!’
But there seemed no fear of that when he did his next round with sir Richard. His cold: ‘Good morning, Sister,’ followed by an absolute minimum of remarks addressed to herself, did nothing to make her like him any the better. True, he joined in the small talk over their coffee in her office, but only when good manners made it necessary. Fortunately Sir Richard was in one of his more expansive moods and was happy enough to do most of the talking. Euphemia, put out by Dr van Diederijk’s cool goodbyes at the ward door, kept her mouth firmly closed and did no more than nod her head in what she hoped was a gracious manner.
Despite that she felt a pang of pity for him later on in the day. She was crossing the entrance hall to see if there was any post for her when she glanced out of the long windows on each side of the door. Dr van Diederijk was standing outside talking to Diana Sibley. Euphemia, overcome by curiosity, paused to look. It was another warm day and Miss Sibley was dressed accordingly in a simple sheath of a dress which must have cost the earth, her feet were sandalled in rose pink leather and had ridiculous high heels and her hair looked as though she had come straight from the hairdressers. Euphemia allowed herself a few moments of envy before deciding that she would rather be her own slightly plump self than the fashionable vision leaning so gracefully against the white sports car which must be hers. She was on the point of turning away when Diana put out a hand and lifted a cheek which the doctor pecked with no enthusiasm at all. His kiss wasn’t received with any degree of pleasure, either. Diana rubbed her cheek carefully, as though to rub it away, got into her car, blew a kiss at him, and drove away. He had his back to her now, and Euphemia wished that she could have seen his face, because somehow his broad back didn’t look as though it belonged to a man in love. Granted, they couldn’t have embraced fervently in full view of anyone who chose to look from the hospital windows, but that frigid peck need not have been quite so icy. Perhaps they had quarrelled? Perhaps Diana didn’t like to be kissed, or to display her feelings in public? Euphemia, the post quite forgotten, tried to decide, so deep in thought that she didn’t even notice the doctor come through the door, pause when he saw her, then tread softly to her.
‘Peeping Tom?’ he enquired nastily.
Euphemia frowned and wished that she didn’t blush so easily. ‘Certainly not,’ she said coldly. ‘I’m on my way to collect the post—I was merely glancing out of the window.’
‘Haven’t you got a young man?’ he asked.
She glared at him. ‘That’s no business of yours, doctor!’
‘I stand corrected; it’s as well if we mind our own business, don’t you agree?’ He strolled away before she had an answer ready.
Euphemia fumed each time she thought about it, but still, at the back of her head, was that little pang of pity because his Diana had had no love in her face when she had held it up for his kiss, no affection even, and yet she had been so sickeningly coy at his party. She could have puzzled about it all day, only she didn’t have the time.
It was a week before she saw him again, a not very happy week, for she had had a letter from the boys bemoaning the fact that they would have to spend their holidays at Aunt Thea’s and couldn’t she do something about it, and another one from Ellen asking if she could possibly have some money to buy some new clothes. It was a very gentle request and Euphemia knew that her sister would accept a refusal without a murmur, all the same, she would send something. Ellen had found herself a little job in the village, spending a few hours each day with an old lady who was almost blind and needed someone to read to her and do small jobs around the house, but she had only just started and she was to be paid monthly and the month still had almost its full length to go. Euphemia did some rather anxious sums on the household budget and wondered if she dared to send the boys to an old family friend in Scotland, who would love to have them, but there again, hadn’t enough money to have them as guests—besides, there was the rail fare.
The ward wasn’t easy either. She had never had to nurse so many cross old men, all demanding this, that and the other thing and driving her and the nurses to the point of screaming. Not that it showed. She went up and down the ward with a serene face, although it was difficult to keep it that way. As she pointed out to her staff nurse, if any of them had been really ill, she wouldn’t have found it tiresome.
She was sitting at her desk writing up the Kardex during a lull in the evening’s work when Dr van Diederijk, after the briefest of knocks, walked in. He wasted no time in pleasantries other than a brisk ‘Good evening’, and didn’t wait for her to reply before observing: ‘I hear that you have three weeks’ holiday, Sister Blackstock?’
She crossed the T’s and dotted the I’s before she looked at him. ‘Yes—why do you want to know?’
He looked at her thoughtfully. ‘Been busy?’ he asked smoothly. ‘I understand that there are some tiresome patients on the ward. Your temper is short, perhaps?’
‘Yes,’ said Euphemia crossly, and bent her head to her Kardex, only to come upright in her chair at his next words.
‘I have a favour to ask of you.’ He had pulled up the only other chair in the little room and had seated himself opposite her.
She opened her eyes wide in astonishment. ‘A favour? Me? I don’t believe it!’
He ignored this. ‘I should like you to accompany Diana to Jerez—in Spain, you know. She has had, most unfortunately, the mumps very severely and badly needs a complete rest. She has an aunt living there who will be delighted to have her, but she cannot undertake—er—companionship…’
‘Why can’t she go somewhere in England?’ asked Euphemia.
‘She is in low spirits, her illness has left her languid and out of sorts. She cannot bear to be seen by any of her friends until she has quite recovered; she needs…’ he paused, looking at the wall above Euphemia’s head.
She said tartly: ‘Someone to brush her hair and rub in all the best creams and urge her to eat her food—she’s far too thin anyway.’
He transferred his gaze to her face and said distantly: ‘Diana is the ethereal type.’
‘That’s all very well, but see what happens when she gets a bit off colour—she loses pounds and looks like a matchstick.’
‘What a very rude young woman you are, but I didn’t come her to wrangle with you. If you will undertake to go with Diana for two weeks of your holiday I propose to vacate Myrtle House for a month so that your sister and brothers can spend their holidays in their own home.’
Euphemia put down her pen slowly. ‘You mean that we can live there—you won’t be there at all?’
‘I shall be in Holland for some of the time, and probably I shall visit Diana’s parents as well, and Sir Richard has offered to put me up while I am in London.’
‘Well, that’s very generous of you, but I’m not sure…’
‘You will receive a salary, of course.’ He got to his feet. ‘Think it over and let me know. I daresay the boys would find it pleasant to be back there for their holidays.’
‘Well, yes. As a matter of fact…’ She just stopped herself in time from telling him her problems. ‘When do you want to know?’
‘I’m going to Women’s Medical to see a patient. I’ll call in on the way back. Fifteen minutes.’
‘But that doesn’t give me much time to think it over.’
‘Just so.’ He smiled faintly and went away.
It would have been wonderful if she could have refused. He was so obviously certain that she was going to do as he had asked—dangling her old house before her like a carrot in front of a donkey. But she couldn’t indulge in that luxury, she would accept, although the idea of spending two weeks in Diana’s company filled her with grave misgivings. On the other hand, the boys would be overjoyed, Ellen too, and the money would come in very useful.
She applied herself to the Kardex once more and he was back again, in exactly fifteen minutes, standing in the doorway, not saying a word.
‘You knew I’d say yes,’ she told him snappily.
He nodded. ‘When are you free so that we may talk about it?’ He put his hands in his pockets and leaned comfortably against the door jamb. ‘This evening?’
Euphemia closed the Kardex and folded her hands upon it. ‘If you like,’ she said, politely now, because it wasn’t much use being anything else. ‘My holiday starts in a week’s time.’
‘I know—Diana should be fit to travel by then, so it should all fit in very nicely.’ He turned away from the door. ‘Would you be ready by half past seven? I’ll be outside—we can have something to eat and discuss the details.’
He had gone before she had had time to do more than begin, ‘Well…’
She was late off duty, but she still had plenty of time in which to shower and change. She put on a two-piece, printed in pale colours, and hoped that it would be suitable for wherever they were going. She hardly thought it would be a Macdonald’s; on the other hand, he wasn’t likely to take her to the Savoy.
She was wrong, for that was exactly where he drove her. He had been waiting when she got to the hospital entrance and after the briefest of greetings, had stuffed her into the front seat of the Bentley without waste of time, beyond telling her that he had booked a table he had nothing to say and neither had she; a poor start to an evening out she was already regretting.
She wasn’t sure, thinking about it afterwards, when she had begun to enjoy herself; perhaps it was the excellent sherry she had had before they started their meal, perhaps it was the rich smoothness of the quenelles of crawfish with lobster sauce and the excellent hock, followed by spiced chicken with apricots. Euphemia found herself liking her companion more and more; but it wasn’t until they had eaten the sherry trifle and she had poured their coffee that the doctor mentioned her forthcoming journey.
They were to fly from Heathrow, she was told with a somewhat abrupt change of manner from the charm and friendliness to cool directions. He would drive his Diana there and Euphemia would meet them at a spot to be decided upon later. She would be kind enough to take good care of Diana on the journey, as she was still—er—frail. Her activities once she was safely at her aunt’s house were to be limited to her wishes.
‘And how do we get to her aunt’s house?’ enquired Euphemia.
‘You will be met at the airport and driven there. The car will be at your disposal during your stay. I doubt if Diana will feel up to much exercise.’ Which remark led Euphemia to ask naughtily:
‘You did say mumps?’
His blue eyes became glacial. ‘I must ask you not to joke about it, Euphemia. Diana has suffered a good deal, mentally as well as physically.’
‘Why?’
He frowned at her. ‘If it were not that I had such a splendid report of you from Sir Charles, I might reconsider my offer,’ he said austerely.
Euphemia put down her coffee cup. ‘And I might reconsider my acceptance…’
The smile she didn’t like came and went. ‘How disappointed your brothers will be! I take it that you have already told them?’
She stared at him across the table, her tawny eyes glowing with annoyance. ‘Yes, I have.’
‘Then shall we cry truce? I was beginning to think that we were establishing a pleasant relationship.’
‘I can’t imagine… Your Diana—does she want me to go with her?’
‘She will be grateful for your help and support.’
Euphemia suppressed a giggle and at the severe glance, said: ‘Sorry, only you make her sound like an infirm old lady.’
‘Diana is twenty-eight and extremely active.’
‘I’m twenty-seven.’
‘More coffee?’ She asked sweetly, ‘And don’t you know that it’s frightfully rude to comment upon a woman’s age?’
‘But I am rude. You have never ceased to make me aware of this since we met.’
‘Oh—I didn’t mean…well, that’s not quite true.’
‘You don’t need to make excuses, we can’t all like each other.’
Euphemia said slowly: ‘No,’ and wondered why it was that she had been enjoying his company so much. He’d been putting himself out, of course, making himself pleasant deliberately, making sure that she would go with his beastly Diana. The thought made her feel sad.
‘I’d better get back,’ she told him, ‘I’m on duty at eight o’clock. I think I’ve got your instructions right and I’ll be at Heathrow wherever you want to meet me.’
‘I’ll let you know. Let me see, it’s five days before your holiday, isn’t it? You have a passport? Clothes? I’ll contact you in two days’ time. When does your holiday start?’
‘In two days’ time,’ she said flatly.
He only nodded and said nothing, and presently he drove her back, making conversation during the short drive to the hospital and not saying another word about his plans. Euphemia wished him a quiet good night at the entrance of the Nurses’ Home and thanked him for her pleasant evening. It was disconcerting to be told coolly that he, for his part, had found only part of the evening pleasant.
He came into her office during the evening before she was due to go on holiday. ‘You’re going to your aunt’s?’ he asked after a brief ‘Good evening’.
She looked her surprise. ‘Yes, as a matter of fact, I am. Shall I give you her phone number?’
‘If you wish I’ll drive you down.’
‘That wouldn’t do. How do I get up to Heathrow?’
‘Diana’s father can drive her over there and I’ll run you up.’
Euphemia put down her pen. ‘That would never do and you know it!’
He considered this for a moment. ‘Perhaps you’re right. In that case I’ll drive your car down and come back by train.’
‘It’s a frightful journey from Middle Wallop.’
He gave her a cool look. ‘Trying to frighten me, Euphemia? You will be good enough to let me drive you down in your car, we can finalise the arrangements at our leisure. When do the boys come on holiday?’
‘The day after tomorrow.’
‘Good—Ellen will return at the same time? If not will the boys be all right on their own for a night?’
‘Oh, yes, I’ve already written to Mrs Cross.’ She hesitated. ‘You’re sure you don’t mind?—us living there?’
‘If I had minded I wouldn’t have suggested it in the first place,’ he said dampeningly.
‘Oh, well. It’s very kind of you—they’ll all love it. We’ll leave it exactly as you wish when we go.’ She smiled suddenly. ‘I’ll have a few days there when I come back from Jerez.’
‘So I imagined. At what time do you intend to leave here?’
‘About ten o’clock, the early morning traffic won’t be so fierce by then.’
His lips twitched. ‘I shall be driving,’ he reminded her.
‘But it’s my car and the only car I’ve got.’
He laughed and looked years younger. ‘I promise you I’ll be careful.’
‘All right, then, nine o’clock if you’d rather.’
‘Shall we meet by your car, then?’ He smiled briefly and went away, and Euphemia, being a sensible girl with a lot of work to do, dismissed him from her mind and got on with it.