Читать книгу Marrying a Doctor: The Doctor's Girl - new / A Special Kind Of Woman - Бетти Нилс - Страница 10

LOVEDAY went to see Mrs Slade then, and in answer to that lady’s doubtful reception of her news assured her that Dr Fforde was no stranger.

‘Well, yer a sensible girl, but if you need an ’elping ’and yer know where to come.’

Loveday thanked her. ‘I’ll write to you,’ she said, ‘and I’ll write to Mrs Branch too. I think it’s a job I can manage, and it will be nice to have somewhere to live where I can have the cat.’

She said goodbye and went back to the basement, and, since a celebration was called for, she gave the cat half the cat meat and boiled two eggs.

In the morning she was a bit worried that the cat might try and escape, but the little beast was still too weak and weary to do more than cling to her when the doctor arrived. His good morning was businesslike as he popped her into the car, put her case into the boot and got in and drove away.

He was still glad to see her, but he had a busy day ahead of him and a day was only so long…

Loveday, sensing that, made no effort to talk, but sat clutching the cat, savouring the delight of being driven in a Bentley motor car.

His rooms were in a house in a quiet street, one in a terrace of similar houses. He ushered her into the narrow hall with its lofty ceiling and up the handsome staircase at its end. There were several doors on the landing, and as they started up the next flight he nodded to the end one.

‘I’m in the end room. We’ll go to your place first.’

They went up another flight of stairs past more doors and finally up a small staircase with a door at the top.

The doctor took a key from a pocket and opened it. It gave directly into a small room, its window opening onto the flat roof of the room below. There were two doors but he didn’t open them.

‘The porter will bring up your case. And I asked him to stock up your cupboard. I suggest you feed the cat and leave the window shut and then come down to my room. Ten minutes?’

He had gone, leaving her to revolve slowly, trying to take it all in. But not for long. Ten minutes didn’t give her much time. She opened one of the doors and found a small room with just space for a narrow bed, a table, a mirror and a chair. It had a small window and the curtains were pretty. Still with the cat tucked under her arm, she opened the other door. It was a minute kitchen, and between it and the bedroom was an even smaller shower room.

Loveday sucked in her breath like a happy child and went to the door to see who was there. It was the porter with her case.

‘Todd’s the name, miss. I’m here all day until seven o’clock, so do ask if you need anything. Dr Fforde said you’ve got a cat. I’ll bring up a tray and suchlike before I go. There’s enough in the cupboard to keep you going for a bit.’

She thanked him, settled the cat on the bed and offered it food, then tidied her hair, powdered her nose and went down to the first floor, the door key in her pocket. She should have been feeling nervous, but there hadn’t been time.

She knocked and walked in. This was the waiting room, she supposed, all restful greys and blues, and with one or two charming flower paintings on the walls. There was a desk in one corner with a filing cabinet beside it.

‘In here,’ said Dr Fforde, and she went through a half-open door to the room beyond where he sat at his desk. He got up as she went in.

He noticed with satisfaction that she looked very composed, as neat as a new pin, and the black eye was better, allowing for a glint of vivid green under the lid.

‘I’ll take you round and show you where everything is, and we will have coffee while I explain your work. There should be time after that for you to go around on your own, just to check things. As I told you, there are few skills required—only a smiling face for all the patients and the ability to cope with simple routine.’

He showed her the treatment room leading from his consulting room. ‘Nurse Paget comes about ten o’clock, unless I’ve a patient before then. She isn’t here every day, so she will explain her hours to you when you meet her. Now, this is the waiting room, which is our domain.’

Her duties were simple. Even at such short notice she thought that she would manage well enough, and there would be no one there in the afternoon so she would have time to go over her duties again. There would be three patients after five o’clock, he told her.

‘Now, your hours of work. You have an early-morning start—eight o’clock—an hour for lunch, between twelve and one, and tea when you have half an hour to spare during the afternoon. You’ll be free to leave at five o’clock, but I must warn you that frequently I have an evening patient and you would need to be here. You have half-day on Saturday and all Sunday free, but Miss Priss came in on Saturday mornings to get everything ready for Monday. Can you cope with that?’

‘Yes,’ said Loveday. ‘You will tell me if I don’t do everything as you like it?’

‘Yes. Now, salary…’ He mentioned a sum which made her blink the good eye.

‘Too much,’ said Loveday roundly. ‘I’m living rent-free, remember.’

She encountered an icy blue stare. ‘Allow me to make my own decisions, Miss West.’

She nodded meekly and said, ‘Yes, Doctor,’ but there was nothing meek about the sparkle in her eye. She would have liked to ask him to stop calling her Miss West with every breath, but since she was in his employ she supposed that she would have to answer to anything she felt he wished to call her.

That night, lying in her bed with the cat wrapped in one of her woolies curled up at her feet, Loveday, half asleep, went over the day. The two morning patients had been no problem; she had greeted them by name and ushered them in and out again, dealt with their appointments and filed away their notes and when the doctor, with a brief nod, had gone away, she had locked the door and come upstairs to her new home.

Todd had left everything necessary for the cat’s comfort outside the door. She had opened the window onto the flat roof, arranged everything to her satisfaction and watched the cat creep cautiously through the half-open window and then back again. She’d fed him then, and made herself a cheese sandwich and a cup of coffee from the stock of food neatly stacked away in the kitchen.

The afternoon she had spent prowling round the consulting rooms, checking and re-checking; for such a magnificent wage she intended to be perfect…

The doctor had returned shortly before the first of his late patients, refused the tea she had offered to make him, and when the last one had gone he’d gone too, observing quietly that she appeared to have settled in nicely and bidding her goodnight. She had felt hurt that he hadn’t said more than that, but had consoled herself with the thought that he led a busy life and although he had given her a job and a roof over her head that was no reason why he should concern himself further.

She had spent a blissful evening doing sums and making a list of all the things she would like to buy. It was a lengthy list…

Dr Fforde had taken himself off home. There was no doubt about it, Loveday had taken to her new job like a duck to water. His patients, accustomed to Miss Priss’s austere politeness, had been made aware of the reason for her absence, and had expressed polite concern and commented on the suitability of her substitute. She might not have Miss Priss’s presence but she had a pleasant manner and a quiet voice which didn’t encroach…

He’d had an urgent call from the hospital within ten minutes of his return to his home. His work had taken over then, and for the time being, at least, he had forgotten her.

Loveday slept soundly with the cat curled up on her feet, and woke with the pleasant feeling that she was going to enjoy her day. She left the cat to potter onto the roof, which it did, while she showered and dressed and got breakfast. She wondered who had had the thoughtfulness to get several tins of cat food as she watched the little beast scoff its meal.

‘You’re beginning to look like a cat,’ she told him, ‘and worthy of a name.’ When he paused to look at her, she added, ‘I shall call you Sam, and I must say that it is nice to have someone to talk to.’

She made him comfortable on the woolly, left the window open and went down to the consulting room.

It was still early, and there was no one about except the porter, who wished her a cheerful good morning. ‘Put your rubbish out on a Friday,’ he warned her. ‘And will you be wanting milk?’

‘Yes, please. Does the milkman call?’

‘He does. I’ll get him to leave an extra pint and I’ll put it outside your door.’

She thanked him and unlocked the waiting room door. For such a magnificent sum the doctor deserved the very best attention; she dusted and polished, saw to the flowers in their vases, arranged the post just so on his desk, got out the patients’ notes for the day and put everything ready to make coffee. That done, she went and sat by the open window and watched the quiet street below. When the Bentley whispered to a halt below she went and sat down behind her desk in the corner of the room.

The doctor, coming in presently, glanced at her as he wished her a brisk good morning and sighed with silent relief. She hadn’t been putting on a show yesterday; she really was composed and capable, sitting there sedately, ready to melt into the background until she was wanted.

He paused at his door. ‘Any problems? You are quite comfortable upstairs?’

‘Yes, thank you, and there are no problems. Would you like coffee? It’ll only take a minute.’

‘Please. Would you bring it in?’

Since she made no effort to attract attention to herself he forgot her, absorbed in his patients, but remembered as he left to visit those who were housebound or too ill to come and see him, to wish her good morning and advise her that he would be back during the afternoon.

Loveday, eating her lunchtime sandwich, leaning out of the window watching Sam stretched out in the autumn sunshine, told the cat about the morning’s work, the patients who had come, and the few bad moments she had had when she had mislaid some notes.

‘I found them, luckily,’ she explained to him. ‘I can’t afford to slip up, can I, Sam? I don’t wish Miss Priss to be too worried about her mother, but I do hope she won’t come back until I’ve saved some money and found a job where you’ll be welcome.’

Sam paused in his wash and brush-up and gave her a look. He was going to be a handsome cat, but he wasn’t young any more, so a settled life would suit him down to the ground. He conveyed his feelings with a look, and Loveday said, ‘Yes, I know, Sam. But I’ll not part with you, I promise.’

At the end of the week she found an envelope with her wages on her desk, and when she thanked the doctor he said, ‘I’ll be away for the weekend. You’ll be here in the morning? Take any phone calls, and for anything urgent you can reach me at the number on my desk. Set the answering-machine when you leave. I have a patient at half past nine on Monday morning.’ At the door he paused. ‘I hope you have a pleasant weekend.’

At noon on Saturday she locked the consulting rooms and went to her little flat. With Sam on her lap she made a shopping list, ate her lunch and, bidding him to be a good boy, set off to the nearest shops. The porter had told her that five minutes’ walk away there were shops which should supply her needs. ‘Nothing posh,’ he said. ‘Been there for years, they have, very handy, too.’

She soon found them, tucked away behind the rather grand houses: the butcher, the baker, the greengrocer, all inhabiting small and rather shabby shops, but selling everything she had on her list. There was a newsagent too, selling soft drinks, chocolates and sweets, and with a shelf of second-hand books going cheap.

Loveday went back to her flat and unpacked her carrier bags. She still wasn’t sure when she could get out during the day, and had prudently stocked up with enough food to last for several days. That done, she sat down to her tea and made another list—clothes, this time. They were a pipe dream at the moment, but there was no harm in considering what she would buy once she had saved up enough money to spend some of it.

It was very quiet in the house. Todd had locked up and gone home, and the place would be empty now until he came again around six o’clock on Monday morning. Loveday wasn’t nervous; indeed she welcomed the silence after Miss Cattell’s voice raised unendingly in demands and complaints. She washed her hair and went to bed early, with Sam for company.

She went walking on Sunday, to St James’s Park and then Hyde Park, stopping for coffee on the way. It was a chilly day but she was happy. To be free, with money in her purse and a home to go back to—what more could she ask of life? she reflected. Well, quite a bit, she conceded—a husband, children and a home…and to be loved.

‘A waste of time,’ said Loveday, with no one to hear her. ‘Who would want to marry me in the first place and how would I ever meet him?’

She walked on briskly. He would have to love her even though she wasn’t pretty, and preferably have enough money to have a nice home and like children. Never mind what he looked like…She paused. Yes, she did mind—he would need to be tall and reassuringly large, and she wouldn’t object to him wearing specs on his handsome nose…

‘You’re being ridiculous,’ said Loveday. ‘Just because he’s the only man who has spoken to you for years.’

She took herself off back home and had a leisurely lunch—a lamb chop, sprouts and a jacket potato, with a tub of yoghurt for pudding—and then sat in the little armchair with Sam on her lap and read the Sunday paper from front to back. And then tea, and later supper and bed.

‘Some would call it a dull day, but we’ve enjoyed every minute of it,’ she told Sam.

The week began well. The nurse, whom she seldom saw, had treated her with coolness at first, and then, realising that Loveday presented no risk to her status, became casually friendly. As for Dr Fforde, he treated her with the brisk, friendly manner which she found daunting. But such treatment was only to be expected….

It was almost the end of the week when he came earlier than usual to the consulting rooms. She gave him coffee and, since she was for the moment idle, paused to tell him that Sam had turned into a handsome cat. ‘And he’s very intelligent,’ she added chattily. ‘You really should come up and see him some time…’

The moment she had uttered them she wished the words unsaid. The doctor’s cool, ‘I’m glad to hear that he has made such a good recovery,’ uttered in a dismissive voice sent the colour into her cheeks. Of course the very idea of his climbing the stairs to her little flat to look at the cat was ridiculous. As though he had the slightest interest…

She buried her hot face in the filing cabinet. Never, never, she vowed, would she make that mistake again.

Dr Fforde, watching her, wondered how best to explain to her that visiting her at the flat would cause gossip—friendly, no doubt, but to be avoided. He decided to say nothing, but asked her in his usual grave way to telephone the hospital and say that he might be half an hour late.

‘Mrs Seward has an appointment after the last patient. She is not a patient, so please show her in at once.’

The last patient had barely been shown out when Mrs Seward arrived. She was tall, slender, with a lovely face, skilfully made up, and wearing the kind of clothes Loveday dreamed of. She had a lovely smile, too.

‘Hello—you’re new, aren’t you? What’s happened to Miss Priss? Has Andrew finished? I’m a bit early.’

‘Mrs Seward? Dr Fforde’s expecting you.’

Loveday opened his door and stood aside for Mrs Seward to go in. Before she closed it she heard him say, ‘Margaret—this is delightful.’

‘Andrew, it’s been so long…’ was Mrs Seward’s happy reply.

Loveday went back to her desk and got out the afternoon patients’ notes. That done, she entered their names and phone numbers into the daily diary. It was time for her to go to her lunch, but she supposed that she should stay; they would go presently and she could lock up. He would be at the hospital during the afternoon, and there were no more patients until almost four o’clock.

She didn’t have long to wait. They came out together presently, and the doctor stopped at the desk and asked her to lock up. ‘And since the first patient is at four o’clock there’s no need for you to come back until three.’

His voice was as kind as his smile. Mrs Seward smiled too. On their way down to the car she said, ‘I like your receptionist. A mouse with green eyes.’

The extra hour or so for lunch wasn’t to be ignored. Loveday gobbled a sandwich, fed Sam, and went shopping, returning with her own simple needs and weighed down by tins of cat food and more books. She had seen that the funny little shop squeezed in between the grocer and the butcher sold just about everything and had noticed some small, cheap radios. On pay day, she promised herself, she would buy one. And the greengrocer had had a bucketful of chrysanthemums outside his shop; they perhaps weren’t quite as fresh as they might have been, but they would add a cheerful splash of colour in the flat.

The doctor arrived back five minutes before his patient, accepted the cup of tea she offered him and, when the last patient of the afternoon had gone, bade her goodnight without loss of time.

‘They’ll go out this evening,’ said Loveday aloud. ‘To one of those restaurants with little lamps on the tables. And then they’ll go dancing. She’s quite beautiful. They make a handsome pair.’

She locked up with her usual care and went upstairs to give Sam his supper and herself a pot of tea. She would have a pleasant evening, she told herself: an omelette for her supper and then a peaceful hour with one of the second-hand books.

‘I’m becoming an old maid,’ said Loveday.

There was news of Miss Priss in the morning; her mother was recovering from her stroke but must stay in hospital for another ten days. After that she would return home and be nursed by Miss Priss and a helper. There was every chance that she would recover, and then Miss Priss would be able to return to work once arrangements for her mother’s comfort could be made.

The doctor told Loveday this without going into details, and although she was sorry for Miss Priss and her mother, she couldn’t help feeling relief. She had known that sooner or later Miss Priss would be back, but the longer she could stay the more money she could save, and with some experience and a reference from the doctor she would have a better chance of finding work. She must remember, she told herself, to curb her tongue and not talk about herself or Sam.

As a result of this resolution the doctor was at first faintly amused and then puzzled at her wooden politeness towards him. She had become in the short time she had been working for him almost as efficient as Miss Priss; she was discreet, pleasantly attentive to his patients, willing to come early and work late if need be, and disappeared to her little flat so quietly that he barely noticed her going. And always there when he arrived in the mornings. It was what he expected and what he paid her for, but all the same he now had a vague sense of disquiet, so that he found himself thinking about her very frequently.

A few days later she went down rather earlier; there were more patients than usual today. The doctor would expect everything to be ready for them.

There was a man on the landing outside the consulting rooms, standing easily, hands in pockets, looking out of the landing window. He turned round to look at her as she reached the door.

He smiled at her and said good morning. ‘I hoped someone would come soon. I’d love a cup of coffee.’ At her surprised look, he added, ‘Oh, it’s quite all right, Andrew won’t mind.’

When she still stood there, looking at him, he added impatiently, ‘Open up, dear girl.’

‘Certainly not,’ said Loveday. ‘I don’t know who you are, and even if you told me I’m not to know whether it’s the truth. I’m so sorry, but if you want to see the doctor then you should come back at nine o’clock.’

She put the key in the lock. ‘I have no intention of letting you in.’

She whisked herself inside, locked the door again and left him there. He had been sure of himself, demanding coffee, behaving as if he knew the doctor, but he could so easily be intent on skulduggery…

She set about her morning chores and had everything just as the doctor liked and the coffee ready when he came in.

The young man was with him and they were both laughing.

The doctor’s good morning was said in his usual quiet manner, but his companion told Loveday, ‘You see, I am a bona fide caller. Are you not remorseful at your treatment of me? And I only asked to be let in and given coffee.’

‘You could have been a thief,’ said Loveday.

‘Quite right, Loveday,’ interposed the doctor. ‘You did the right thing and, since my cousin hasn’t the good grace to introduce himself, I must do it for him. Charles Fforde, this is Miss Loveday West, who is my most efficient receptionist.’

Charles offered a hand, and after a tiny pause she shook it.

‘What happened to Miss Prissy?’

‘I’ll tell you about her. Come into my room. There is time for coffee, but you must go away before my patients arrive.’ The doctor opened his door. ‘I should be free about one o’clock; we’ll have lunch together.’

Loveday fetched the coffee. Charles was much younger than the doctor—more her own age, she supposed. He was good-looking too, and well dressed. She thought uneasily that he was very like Miss Cattell’s men-friends, only younger. On the other hand he was the doctor’s cousin, and he, in her view, was beyond reproach.

Charles didn’t stay long, and on his way out he paused by her desk.

‘Did anyone ever tell you that you have very beautiful eyes? The rest of you is probably charming, though hardly breathtaking, but the eyes…!’

He bent down and kissed the end of her nose.

‘Till we meet again,’ he told her, and reached the door in time to hold it open for the first patient.

No one had ever told Loveday that her eyes were beautiful. She savoured that for the rest of the day and tried to forget his remark about not being breathtaking. It had been so long since anyone had passed a remark about her appearance that she found it hard to ignore.

That evening, getting ready for bed, she examined her face carefully. ‘Hardly breathtaking’ was a kind way of saying plain…

All the same she took extra pains with her face and hair in the morning, and made plans to buy a new dress on Saturday afternoon.

If she had hoped to see Charles the next day she was disappointed. There was no sign of him, and Dr Fforde, beyond his usual pleasant greeting, had nothing to say. All the same, she spent Saturday afternoon searching for a dress. It had to be something that would last. She found it after much searching: a navy blue wool crêpe, well cut and elegant, with the kind of neckline which could be dressed up by a pretty scarf. She bore it back and tried it on with Sam for a rather bored audience.

And on Monday morning she wore it to work.

Dr Fforde, wishing her his usual pleasant good morning noticed it immediately. It was undoubtedly suitable for her job, but it hardly enhanced her appearance. Her pretty mousy hair and those green eyes should be complemented by rich greens and russet, not buried in navy blue. He thought it unlikely that she had many friends, and perhaps none close enough to point this out to her. A pity. He sat down at his desk and started to go through his post.

It was Charles who voiced this same opinion when he came again during the week. He sauntered in after the last of the morning patients had gone and stopped at her desk.

‘A new dress’, he said as he eyed her up and down in a friendly fashion. ‘In excellent taste too, dear girl, but why hide your charms behind such a middle-aged colour? You should be wearing pink and blue and emerald-green, and all the colours of the rainbow…’

‘Not if she is to remain my receptionist,’ said the doctor from his door, so that Loveday’s wide smile at the sight of Charles was quenched. She contrived to look faintly amused, although her eyes sparkled green fire. The phone rang then and she turned to answer it, and the two men went into the consulting room together.

She had been delighted to see Charles, and although he didn’t like the new dress he had said it was hiding her charms—which sounded old-fashioned but pleasant. And then Dr Fforde had to spoil it all. Who knew what Charles would have said if they had been left alone?

Loveday, a level-headed girl, realised that she was behaving in a way quite unlike her usual self-contained self. ‘Which won’t do,’ she muttered as the phone rang again. And no one could have looked more efficient and at the same time inconspicuous than she did as Dr Fforde and Charles came into the room again.

‘I shall be at the hospital until five o’clock,’ the doctor told her. ‘Have the afternoon off, but please be here by half past four.’

So Loveday had a leisurely lunch and decided to do some more shopping. She didn’t need much, but she seldom had the chance to go out during the day and it was a bright day even if chilly. She got into her jacket—navy blue again, and bought to last—and with her shopping basket over one arm went out.

She had only gone a few yards down the street when she met Charles.

He took her arm. ‘How about a walk in the park and tea? It’s a splendid afternoon for exercise.’

She didn’t try to conceal her pleasure at seeing him again. ‘It sounds lovely, but I’m going shopping.’

‘You can shop any day of the week.’ He had tucked one arm into hers. ‘Half an hour’s brisk walk, then tea, and then if you must shop…’

‘I have to be back by half past four.’

‘Yes, yes. That’s almost three hours away.’

He was laughing at her and, despite her good resolutions, she smiled back. ‘A walk would be nice…’

He was an amusing companion and, bored with having nothing much to do for the moment, he found it intriguing to attract this rather sedate girl who had no idea how to make the most of herself. He had charm and a light-hearted way of talking, uncaring that he rarely meant a word of what he uttered. Those who knew him well joined in his cheerful banter and didn’t take it seriously, but Loveday wasn’t to know that…

He took her to a small café near the park, plied her with cream cakes and called her dear girl, and when they parted outside the consulting rooms he begged her to see him again. He touched the tip of her nose very gently as he spoke and his smile was such that she agreed at once.

‘But I’m only free on Saturday afternoons and Sundays.’

‘Sunday it shall be. We will drive into the country and walk and talk and eat at some village pub.’ He turned away. ‘Ten o’clock?’

‘He didn’t wait for her reply, which just for a moment she found disturbing, but she brushed that aside. A day out in his company would be lovely.

Dr Fforde, coming back just before five o’clock, wondered what had given Loveday a kind of inner glow; she was no longer insignificant, and her ordinary face was alight with happiness.

He asked, ‘You enjoyed your afternoon?’

‘Yes, thank you, Doctor.’ Her beaming smile included him in her happiness, and for some reason that made him uneasy.

At breakfast on Sunday morning, Loveday explained to Sam that she would be away for the day. ‘Well, most of it, I hope.’ She added, ‘But I won’t be late home.’ She kissed his elderly head. ‘Be a good boy.’

Charles had said a drive into the country and a village pub. Her jacket and a skirt would be quite suitable; she would wear her good shoes and the pale blue sweater…

She was ready and waiting when she heard the silence of the quiet street disturbed by the prolonged blowing of his car’s horn. She reached his car just as he was about to blow it again. ‘Oh, hush,’ she begged him. ‘It’s Sunday morning.’

He had looked faintly impatient, but now he laughed. ‘So it is and we have the whole day before us.’ He leaned across and opened the car door. ‘Jump in.’

His car was a sports model, scarlet and flashy. She suppressed the instant thought that Dr Fforde’s car was more to her liking and settled down beside Charles.

‘It’s a lovely morning,’ she began.

‘Marvellous, darling, but don’t chatter until we are out of London.’

So she sat quietly, happy just to be there, sitting beside him, leaving the streets and rows of houses behind for a few hours.

He drove south, through Sevenoaks, and she wondered where they were going. They were well clear of London by now, but he had nothing much to say until he asked suddenly, ‘Have you any idea where we’re going?’

‘No, except that it’s south—towards the coast.’

‘Brighton, darling. Plenty to do and see there.’

She had expected a day in the country—he had mentioned a country pub. Surely Brighton wasn’t much different from London? But what did it matter where they went? She was happy in his company and he made her laugh…

He parked at the seafront and they had coffee and then walked, first by the sea and then through the town, stopping to look at the shop windows in the Lanes. Charles promised her that the next time they came he would take her to the Pavilion. They had lunch in a fashionable pub and then walked again, and if it wasn’t quite what she had expected it didn’t really matter. She was having a lovely day out and Charles was a delightful companion, teasing her a little, letting her see that he liked her, and telling her that he had never met a girl quite like her before. Loveday, hopelessly ignorant of the fashionable world, believed every word of it.

They drove back to London after a splendid tea in one of the seafront hotels.

‘Do you come here often?’ Loveday wanted to know.

Charles gave her his charming smile. ‘Never with such a delightful companion.’ He might have added, And only because here I’m most unlikely to meet anyone I know. He wasn’t doing any harm, he told himself. Loveday led a dull life; what could be kinder than to give her a taste of romance? And it would keep him amused for the next few weeks…

She was a dear little thing, he reflected as they drove back, but too quiet and dull for him. It amused him to see how she blossomed under his attention.

‘We must do this again,’ he told her. ‘I’ll be away next weekend, but there’s a good film we might go to see one evening. Wednesday. I’ll come for you about half past seven.’

‘I’d like that, thank you,’ she said. And, Loveday being Loveday, she added, ‘I won’t need to dress up? I haven’t anything smart to wear.’