Читать книгу The Quiet Professor - Бетти Нилс - Страница 8

CHAPTER TWO

MEGAN got up early, for there was a lot to do. She breakfasted, fed Meredith, tidied her small home and went shopping. A bus took her to the Mile End Road, where she filled her basket and hurried back to the flat. The daffodils she had brought back with her had brightened up the rather dark room and there was a shaft of pale sunlight shining through its window. New curtains, she decided happily as she unpacked the basket, pale yellow and tawny, and some new lampshades instead of the rather severe ones Theatre Sister had favoured. They could wait for a few days; supper was what mattered. She made herself some coffee, buttered a roll, fed the cat again and found an old woolly scarf for him to sit on, then spread her shopping on the table in the tiny kitchen.

She chopped onions for the onion soup, peeled potatoes, cut up courgettes and carrots, trimmed lamb chops, got everything ready to make a baked custard and arranged the Brie and Stilton on a dish. Oscar would be off duty at six o’clock, which meant he would arrive half an hour later than that. She had plenty of time; she made a batch of cheese scones and put them in the oven, then went into the living-room to lay the table and light the fire, then, well satisfied with her efforts, she put on one of her pretty dresses and did her hair and face, made a cup of tea and ate one of the scones and then started to cook. The stove was adequate but there was very little room; it meant cooking the soup first so that there would be room for the other saucepans later. The chops she dressed with a few sprigs of rosemary and put into a warm oven while she made the custard and presently put that in the oven too. She hadn’t been sure which wine to buy so she had settled for a rosé and cans of beer; she should have bought a bottle of sherry, she thought worriedly, something she had quite forgotten, but going to look at the table once more she felt satisfied that the tiny room looked welcoming with its one shabby armchair by the fireplace with the table beside it. The rest of the room was more or less filled by the dining table under the window, the two chairs with it and the built-in cupboard and shelves along one wall. There was a padded stool and another small table by the divan and with the two lamps switched on the place looked almost cosy. She opened the kitchen window and let Meredith out, promising him his supper when he returned, then she went back to the stove. Oscar would be coming in half an hour or so and it was time to get the vegetables cooked.

Everything was just about ready by half-past six but there was no sign of Oscar; ten minutes went by and she was worrying about everything being overdone when the phone—a necessity laid on by the hospital only for theatre sisters—rang. Oscar sounded very cheerful. ‘Megan? Something’s come up—you won’t mind, will you, if I don’t come round? One of the housemen has just got engaged and we’re having a bit of a party.’

That was true enough; she could hear laughter and singing in the background and she could hear women’s voices, too. She reminded herself that there were several women doctors at Regent’s before she asked in what she hoped was a matter-of-fact voice if he was coming later.

‘Not a chance. We’ll be going strong for several hours yet.’ He chuckled in what she considered was an infuriating manner. ‘I’m glad I’m not on call.’

She boiled silently. ‘A pity—supper’s all ready…’

‘Put the baked beans back in the tin for next time,’ said Oscar.

That was a bit too much. She hung up.

The smells from the stove were mouthwatering. She turned off the gas and found that she was shaking with rage and disappointment. She would open the wine and drink the lot, she thought wildly, and was scarcely aware that there were tears running down her cheeks. She wiped them away furiously when there was a knock on the door; Oscar had come after all…she flung the door open and found Professor van Belfeld with the cat Meredith tucked under one arm, standing there.

He didn’t wait to be asked in but went past her and put the cat down on the divan. ‘He was at the end of the road, a cyclist came round the corner and knocked him down. I happened to be passing. I don’t think he’s injured, but if you like I’ll take a look.’

He glanced at her with casual swiftness so that she hoped he hadn’t seen the tears. ‘Oh, please—and thank you for rescuing him. I thought it quite safe in the yard. I’ll get a little towel…’

The professor took his time; Megan had the chance to wipe her tear-stained cheeks and blow her nose as soundlessly as possible. The only looking-glass was in the tiny shower-room and she had to trust to luck that she looked normal again. She made a mental note to acquire another for the kitchen as soon as possible. She didn’t look normal, she looked woebegone and red about her pretty nose, but the professor refrained from comment, merely remarked that the cat had no bones broken although he was probably badly bruised. He lifted him on to the scarf before the fire and stood up.

‘You’re expecting a guest. I’m sorry if I’ve held things up in the kitchen.’

‘It—it doesn’t matter—he’s not coming. Oscar—there’s a party at the hospital.’ Her lip quivered like a small girl’s. ‘I cooked supper and now there’s only me to eat it all.’ She gave a sniff and added, ‘So sorry…’

The professor took off his coat. ‘Would I do instead? Something smells delicious and I’m very hungry,’ and when she looked doubtful, ‘I had no lunch.’

‘Really? You’d like to stay? But haven’t you a home…?’

‘Yes, yes, of course I have, but there’s no one there this evening.’

He sounded very convincing and he didn’t spoil it by adding anything to that.

‘Well, it would be nice if you stayed. Will your car be all right outside?’

‘I left some boys on guard.’

‘Won’t they get cold?’

‘They’re sitting inside.’ He went to the table and picked up the wine. ‘If you have a corkscrew I’ll open this.’

She went back to the stove and turned the gas on again and presently served the soup. ‘I’m sorry I haven’t anything to offer you—no sherry or whisky—I’m not quite settled in yet.’

‘This soup needs nothing. You made it yourself?’

‘Yes, I like cooking.’ It helped a lot to see the soup, so carefully made with its round of toast and parmesan cheese on top, being eaten with such enjoyment. The lamb chops were eaten too, washed down with the rosé, which the professor drank with every appearance of enjoyment. It was perhaps the first time in his life that he had drunk wine at three pounds twenty-five pence a bottle; the price had been on the cork and he suspected that she had chosen it because it was a pretty colour.

He laid himself out to be pleasant and she was surprised to discover that he was a good companion, not saying much and never raising his voice, but what he said was interesting and had nothing to do with hospital life. Here was a different man from the one who had stared down at the broken dish and raked her with such a cold blue gaze. She discovered suddenly that she was enjoying herself. The cheese and biscuits followed the chops and since there wasn’t much room to sit anywhere else they had their coffee at the table with the plate of cheese scones between them.

Thinking about it afterwards, Megan wasn’t sure what they had talked about; certainly she had learned nothing of the professor’s private life, as she hadn’t dared to ask questions and he had volunteered no information, although he had told her that he had a dog and a cat, but he had only mentioned them casually while he was taking another look at Meredith, lying at his ease before the fire, comfortably full of supper.

Much to her surprise, he had helped her wash up before he had thanked her quietly for his supper and a pleasant evening, not once saying a word about Oscar—she had been grateful for that—and then he had gone out to his car, sent the boys home gleefully clutching small change, and driven himself away, lifting a casual hand as he went.

There was no chance of seeing Oscar the next day. The usual spate of cases were warded and the ward was full again, and it was a good thing, Megan decided, for it would take her a day or two to get over her disappointment at Oscar’s casual treatment. It was two days later before she did see him on her way back from her midday dinner.

‘Sorry about the other evening, Megan,’ he said cheerfully. ‘I knew you would understand. How about tomorrow? I’m off in the evening unless there’s any kind of emergency.’

Megan mentally arranged the off duty. ‘No good—I’m on duty and I’ll be too tired even to open a can of beans.’ She gave him a brilliant smile. ‘Can’t stop—there’s a case going to Theatre. Bye.’

In her office she got out the off-duty book and went in search of Jenny. ‘I particularly want an afternoon off tomorrow; would you mind changing?’

Jenny was only too glad to agree and Megan sailed back to her office, feeling that at least she had got some of her own back. It wasn’t nice of her, she admitted to herself, and indeed she was a kind-hearted and thoughtful girl by nature, but Oscar had upset her, she had to admit, and had made her uneasy. It wasn’t as if they saw a great deal of each other, there was no question of that, and didn’t absence make the heart grow fonder? Or did it?

There was no sign of the professor, but that was quite normal; he seldom came on to the wards and when he did he wasted no time in conversation unless it was of a professional nature. It was quite by chance that she overheard Mr Bright telling Will Jenkins that the professor had gone off to Holland. ‘Won’t be back for a few days,’ grumbled Mr Bright, ‘but I suppose he wants to see his family from time to time.’

So he was married—the thought gave Megan the strange feeling that she had lost something.

Take-in finished and the ward reverted to its normal busy state, without the sudden upheavals of accident cases, and Megan, relenting, spent an evening with Oscar, having a meal at a quiet restaurant near Victoria Park. She enjoyed herself and Oscar was so nice that she felt mean about changing her off duty the week before and when he suggested that he might go to her home with her on her next free weekend she agreed happily.

‘I can get a weekend,’ he pointed out. ‘Heaven knows I’m due for one.’

‘That will be marvellous. Can we go home on Saturday morning and stay until Sunday evening?’

He saw her back to the flat and stayed for ten minutes or so. ‘Not much of a place, is it?’ he pointed out, and she tried not to mind that. She had the new curtains up and cushions to match, fresh flowers and her books on the bookshelves. Even the cat Meredith looked glossy and well fed. A sensible girl, she understood that to a man the flat appeared to lack the comfort and convenience of home, and she contented herself by telling him that she was very happy with it. ‘If I want to go to bed early I can,’ she explained. ‘At the nurses’ home there is always a good deal of noise and people popping in and out and playing their cassettes. You’d be surprised how quiet this street is.’

He laughed and kissed her. ‘Take care; you’ll be turning into a regular old maid unless you look out!’

‘That’s easily remedied. We could get married.’ She didn’t know why she had said that and she regretted it when she saw his frown.

‘Time enough to talk about that when I’ve finished here and applied for another post,’ he told her, and, because he saw that she was feeling awkward, added another kiss to the one that he had already given her.

Megan, left alone, turned the divan into a bed, put on a kettle for a cup of tea and brushed Meredith’s coat. He was filling out nicely and since his accident had prudently stayed in the back yard. He scoffed the saucer of milk she offered him now and composed himself for sleep before the fire, although the minute she turned out the light and got into bed he would creep stealthily on to the end of it and stay there all night.

It was several days later that she saw the professor again. She was going off duty after an exceptionally busy day and she was tired and cross and a little untidy. He and Mr Bright were standing in the entrance hall, deep in some discussion; Mr Bright looked up and called a cheerful, ‘Goodnight, Sister Rodner,’ and the professor looked at her too, rather as though he couldn’t remember where he had met her before, and gave a brief, abstracted nod. She went on her way, feeling put out; he had, after all, eaten a hearty supper at her invitation. She corrected that—his invitation; she hadn’t expected that it would lead to a closer relationship, he wasn’t close to anyone as far as she knew, but it merited a civil greeting.

She aired her views to Meredith as she got her supper. ‘Very rude,’ she told him as she stooped to set a saucer of food before him. ‘But perhaps he’s feeling homesick if he’s just back from Holland.’

She and Oscar were to go to her home at the weekend; she had seen him that morning and he had been eager to go. His enthusiasm had astonished and pleased her, for she knew what a lot of arranging had to be done before he could consider himself free for more than a day at a time. They could leave on Friday evening, he had suggested, and be there by ten o’clock, if that wasn’t too late for her parents, and she had agreed happily. Tomorrow she would have to find time to buy a cat basket. Meredith had stopped roaming the streets now that he had a good home but left on his own he might stray and she had got fond of him. A little fresh country air would do him good.

Friday began badly; she was entering the hospital when she saw the professor getting out of his car, near enough for them to have exchanged good-mornings, but she was still annoyed with him and swept through the door as though there was no one to be seen for miles around her. He followed her in an elegant, leisurely fashion, smiling a little. He didn’t smile a great deal and the head porter gave him a surprised look and observed to one of his underlings that Professor van Belfeld didn’t seem quite himself. ‘Something must ’ave shook ’im up,’ he added weightedly.

On the ward Megan found that the night had gone badly. A patient had fallen out of bed; no one’s fault but there needed to be a special report sent in, the medical houseman sent for to examine the lady and the nurses to reassure. It was a bad start to the day, although the patient, a stout lady who had rolled out of bed when she had turned over, had had no injury. Megan, coping with Authority, who wanted to know all about it, found her temper, usually calm, fraying badly. It frayed even more when Mr Bright, due for a ward-round, arrived half an hour late, so that dinners had to be kept hot while he went from bed to bed, taking his time. You would have thought, reflected Megan, seething with impatience, that the smell of fish, mingled with stewed beef and carrots, would help to remind him that the patients had to eat…

Oscar had said that he would be ready to leave by six o’clock and she was hard put to it to get off duty at her usual time. She didn’t go to her dinner, but made do with a sandwich and a cup of tea in her office, working through the afternoon so that when Jenny came on duty she was able to leave with an easy mind, hurry to the flat, change, stuff an indignant Meredith into his basket and collect her overnight bag before Oscar came to collect her.

Her mood improved when she saw him; he looked reassuringly ordinary, and obviously he was delighted at the idea of a weekend away from the hospital too. He stowed the cat on the back seat, put her bag in the boot and got in beside her, kissed her briefly and drove off.

‘We should get there well before ten o’clock,’ he told her. ‘Once we can get out of London we’ll use the motorway this time.’ He turned to smile at her. ‘It’s a lovely evening too.’

She agreed, feeling better already. ‘Is there anything special you want to do? There are some marvellous walks if you feel like it…’

‘Let’s see how we feel,’ he said easily. ‘Your family might have some ideas.’ He added, ‘You look tired; have you had a bad day?’

That was the nice thing about him, she thought—he always remembered that she worked as well as he and took an interest in her days. ‘Well, not bad exactly, just lots of small things going wrong. We’d got straightened out by the time I went off duty and Jenny’s very capable.’

They talked shop for some time—it relieved the tedium of their slow progress during the rush-hour—but presently when they were clear of the suburbs they fell silent. There’s no need to talk, thought Megan; we know each other well enough for there to be no need to make conversation. She felt comfortable with him. The thought flashed through her mind that they were perhaps too comfortable; surely she should feel rather more than that when they were together? It left her uneasy and presently she voiced her doubts.

‘Oscar, do you feel excited when I’m with you?’ That didn’t sound quite right and she tried again. ‘Don’t laugh—I really want to know.’

They were on the motorway and it was comparatively free of traffic so that he was able to answer her without distraction.

‘Megan, dear, of course I won’t laugh, and I do understand what you mean. My feeling for you is—how shall I put it?—deep and sincere, but I believe I am not a man to get excited, as you put it. I am happy and content and I believe that we shall settle down very well together.’ He glanced at her smiling. ‘Does that answer your question?’

She wanted to tell him that it didn’t but instead she told him that it did. Perhaps there was no such thing as the kind of romance one read about in books. She twiddled the ring on her finger and told herself that she was happy.

Her mother and father and Melanie were waiting for them when they arrived. They had made good time and since it wasn’t yet ten o’clock they had waited supper for them and they sat round the table talking, comfortably aware that the next day was Saturday and there was no hurry to go to work in the morning. Megan, sitting beside Oscar, was pleased to see that he got on so well with Melanie. She smiled at her sister across the table; she had mothered her and shielded her as a child and she loved her dearly. It was a delight to see her talking and laughing so easily with him.

She woke early because it was a habit born of hospital routine, and decided that it was far too soon to get up. She got out of bed and pulled back the curtains. The sun wasn’t quite up but the sky was clear and the country around was green and fresh. She drew a contented breath and then let it out with a small gasp. Oscar and Melanie had just left the house by the kitchen door below her window. They were talking softly as they went down the garden to the gate at the end which would lead them to a lane which would take them into the woods beyond the house.

Megan got back into bed and thought about it. Perhaps Oscar hadn’t slept well, and, intent on an early morning walk, had met Melanie, who had possibly got up early to get morning tea for everyone. He had talked during supper about bird watching; he might have been going to do just that and Melanie had offered to show him the best places to watch from. She turned over and went to sleep again.

She woke a couple of hours later to find Melanie sitting on the edge of the bed with a cup of tea in her hand, and she sat up, her dark hair hanging in a tangle about her shoulders. ‘Where were you and Oscar going?’ she asked.

‘Did you see us? Why didn’t you call—we’d have waited for you. Oscar wanted to see some birds, remember? And he came downstairs while I was in the kitchen—I’d got up early to get the tea so we had a cup and I took him along to Nib’s Wood.’ She looked anxious. ‘You don’t mind, Meg?’

‘Darling, of course not. As a matter of fact that’s what I thought you were going to do. Oscar’s nice to be with, isn’t he?’

‘Oh, yes, he doesn’t mind that I’m not witty and amusing…’

‘Who does mind?’

‘Oh, George at the Manor and the Betts boys at Home Farm and the new clerk in father’s office.’

Megan said indignantly, ‘They don’t say so?’

‘Well, not quite, but that’s what they mean.’

Megan put her arms round her sister, ‘Darling, don’t take any notice of them. You’re nice as you are and all the nice men—the kind you’ll marry—like girls like you.’

‘Oh, I do hope so.’

Melanie put a gentle hand on Meredith’s head. He had curled up on the end of the bed and not stirred but now he opened his eyes and yawned. ‘I’d better get up,’ said Megan, ‘and see to this monster. Is breakfast ready?’

‘Half an hour. What are you going to do today?’

‘Show Oscar the village, give Mother a hand, potter in the garden. Oscar works very hard. I dare say he’ll like to be left to do his own thing.’

When she got downstairs her mother was in the kitchen dishing up eggs and bacon, and Melanie was making toast.

Megan carried the coffee through to the dining-room and found her father and Oscar there. She stooped to kiss the top of her father’s head as he sat in his chair and offered a cheek to Oscar.

He flung an arm round her shoulders. ‘I was up early; I’ve been bird watching,’ he told her. ‘Melanie was up too and she kindly showed me the best places to go to. I must say the country around here is delightful. I’m almost tempted to turn into a GP and settle down in rural parts,’ but when he saw the look on Megan’s face he laughed and added, ‘But I won’t do that, I’ve set my heart on a good London practice and a senior post in one of the teaching hospitals. Megan knows that, don’t you, darling?’

‘Yes, of course I do. You’ll be so successful that we’ll be able to afford a cottage in the country for weekends.’ She smiled at him, knowing that he’d set his heart on making a success of his career and understanding that he intended to do just that with a single-minded purpose which could ignore her own wish to live away from London. He deserved success, she thought; he had worked very hard and he was a good doctor. She watched him being gentle with Melanie and felt a glow of gratitude; her sister, usually so painfully shy, was perfectly at ease with him.

Driving back to Regent’s on Sunday evening, she asked Oscar, ‘You enjoyed yourself? You weren’t bored?’

‘Good lord, no, it was marvellous. I like your family, Megan. That young brother of yours is a splendid chap.’

‘Yes, he is, and he likes you. So does Melanie. You must have seen how shy she is with people she doesn’t know well but you got on with her splendidly.’

He didn’t answer, she supposed because of the sudden congestion of traffic.

At the hospital he said, ‘How about another weekend when I can get one?’

‘Lovely. I’ll be going again in two weeks but I don’t suppose you can manage one as soon as that.’

‘Afraid not, but I could try for the weekend after.’

‘Let me know in good time. I’ll have to alter the off duty but I know Jenny won’t mind. Ought you not to go home and see your parents?’

‘I’ll scrounge a half-day during the week.’

He didn’t ask her if she wanted to go with him. Perhaps he had noticed that she and his mother hadn’t taken to each other. That would take some time, she reflected as they said goodnight.

Monday morning was busy for there were admissions for operation on the following day, which meant all the usual tests, a visit from the anaesthetist, examinations by painstaking housemen and finally a brief visit from Mr Bright during the afternoon to bolster up his patients’ failing spirits and cast an eye over his houseman’s reports. The last patient of the four was a thin, tired-looking woman and he spent longer than usual talking to her, putting her at her ease before turning to the papers in his hand.

He paused at the path. lab. report and read it again. ‘You’ve seen this, Sister?’ he asked.

‘Yes, sir.’

‘Most unusual. Be good enough to go to the path. lab. will you, and check with Professor van Belfeld? We shall need to get a supply…’

Megan nipped smartly through the hospital and opened the path. lab. department door. The professor wasn’t going to like having one of his decisions questioned.

He was at his desk. She wondered if he sat there all day, for he looked remarkably alert and not in the least tired. He looked up as she knocked and went in. His, ‘Yes, Sister?’ was politely questioning.

‘Mr Bright asked me to check with you—this blood-group report. He thought it was unusual.’

‘It is unusual; it is also correct. I checked it personally. You may tell Mr Bright that with my compliments.’ He picked up his pen. ‘Run along now, I’m rather busy.’

She turned on her heel and made for the door, choking back all the rude words on her tongue. Run along, indeed; who did he think he was?

‘Be good enough to close the door firmly as you go out, and tell Mr Bright that I have arranged for a suitable blood donor.’

Megan, a mild girl, was boiling over. Such rudeness… She opened the door and said unforgivably over one shapely shoulder, ‘Tell him yourself, sir,’ and flounced out haughtily, leaving the door slightly ajar.

Hurrying back to the ward, the enormity of what she had said hit her. She would get the sack; insubordination, she supposed it would be called. Oscar would be angry with her for losing her temper and behaving like a silly child; her parents would be unhappy; she would be given one of those references which damned with faint praise and would end up looking after a geriatric ward in some old-fashioned hospital in the Midlands. Her wild thoughts showed plainly on her face when she got back to the ward and Mr Bright asked, ‘Did Professor van Belfeld eat you alive?’ He laughed as he said it and she said quickly,

‘No, no, Mr Bright. He asked me to tell you that he agreed that it was a most unusual blood-group and that he had arranged for a blood donor.’

‘Good man. I don’t know what this hospital would do without him.’

Megan mumbled something; maybe the hospital couldn’t do without him but she for one could. She tidied the papers Mr Bright had scattered all over the bed and locker and went rigid when the professor’s quiet voice speaking its perfect faintly accented English came from behind her.

‘I’m sure that Sister Rodner gave you my message, suitably altered to agree with her standard of politeness,’ and when Mr Bright laughed he added, ‘I hope she will forgive me for my abruptness.’

Megan’s charming bosom heaved with pent-up feelings. She was still casting around for a suitable answer to this when he went on, ‘I thought it best if I came down to see you—there are a couple of elements in this case which need clarifying.’

Megan had moved away to arrange the bedclothes over her patient. It had been quite unnecessary for him to apologise to her like that and now he had put her in the wrong. She would have to apologise; not that she intended to do that until she knew if he was going to make a complaint about her conduct. The tiresome man. She worried about it for the rest of the afternoon, which was quite unnecessary; it was a pity she hadn’t seen the professor sitting back in his chair with a delighted grin on his face as she had flounced through his office door.

By the time she went off duty she had steeled herself to apologise to him but not until the following day. If he was going to make something of it she would be called to Matron’s office at nine o’clock. On her way through the hospital she began to compose a speech; it would have to be dignified and apologetic at the same time and she was finding it rather difficult. She was so engrossed that she failed to see the professor coming towards her until they were within a few feet of each other. His first words took her breath.

‘Ah, Sister Rodner, I have been expecting your apology.’ He sounded pleasantly enquiring and she thought crossly that it would be much easier seriously to dislike him if only he would raise his voice and shout a bit.

‘I haven’t had much time,’ she told him snappily. ‘I have every intention of doing so but not until tomorrow.’ He was standing before her, blocking a good deal of the passage. ‘I’m waiting to see if I have to go to Matron’s office.’

‘Why?’

‘Well, if you have complained about me she won’t waste much time before having me in for an interview.’ She eyed him wrathfully. ‘I shall probably be given the sack or lose my sister’s cap or something.’

‘My dear young lady, I have no intention of complaining about you. Indeed in your shoes I would have said and done exactly what you did. So you may forget the melodrama and come to work with an easy conscience in the morning.’

He smiled suddenly and just for a moment he didn’t look like the austere man she imagined he was. ‘It would give me pleasure to take you out to dinner as a token of good faith, but I hesitate to trespass on young Fielding’s preserves.’

She was surprised at the flash of regret which she felt. ‘It is kind of you to—to think that,’ she said carefully. ‘I’m sorry I was rude and thank you for being so nice about it.’

‘Nice, nice—an English word which means everything or nothing. I am not nice, as you very well know.’ He stood aside. ‘Goodnight, Sister Rodner.’

She went on her way faintly disturbed and not quite sure why.

Oscar was coming for supper that evening and she made haste home so that she could be ready for him. ‘Nine o’clock,’ he had said, which gave her time enough. She showered and changed into a grey jersey dress with a bright scarf at the throat, fed the cat, put on a pinny and got to work. A cheese soufflé, a winter salad, crusty french bread and a variety of cheeses. She had some sherry in the house now but she hadn’t bought any wine, although there was beer in the cupboard. The room looked cosy enough with the new lampshades casting a kindly pink glow over the cheap furniture and the table with its checked cloth and painted china. Oscar looked a little surprised as he came in. ‘I say, this place looks more like it although the furniture’s pretty grim. I’m famished…’

The soufflé was a dream of lightness and he ate most of it before starting on the bread and cheese and the bowl of apples. She made coffee and he sat back presently and began to tell her about his day. It wasn’t until he got up to go that he observed, ‘That was a good meal—I had no idea you could cook, Megan. Did Melanie teach you? I often think of those scones…’

She said evenly, ‘Yes, she makes marvellous scones. She’s a very good cook.’

He kissed her then, but not how she wanted to be kissed. She wanted to be held close and told that she was a splendid cook too and that he loved her more than anything in the world. Something was not right, she thought, but she didn’t know what it was and she made the mistake of asking him.

‘Something wrong? Whatever makes you say that? Of course there isn’t. I dare say you’re tired. Never mind—I’ve fixed up a weekend; did you change yours?’

‘As far as I know.’ She watched him walk away and closed the door, then washed her supper things and tidied the room before turning the divan into a bed, feeding Meredith and going to bed, to lie awake listening to his hoarse purr and worrying about her wretched day. Nothing had gone right and she would have enjoyed a good cry, only, as she told herself, she had nothing to cry about.

Take-in started again on Wednesday and since she had changed her weekend with Jenny, she was without that trusty right arm over this weekend, but, as she reminded herself at the end of each busy day, she and Oscar would be going home at the end of the following week. She saw little of him but, as she told the cat Meredith as she got ready to go to work on the last day of take-in, tomorrow they would be back to normal.

Only they weren’t. During the afternoon she was told by a sympathetic office sister that there was an outbreak of flu at St Patrick’s, who alternated with Regent’s, and her ward would have to take in for another week.

There was nothing to be done about it. When she got off duty she went to the porter’s lodge and asked if Oscar could see her for a moment and when he came into the entrance hall she told him the bad news at once.

‘What bad luck.’ He frowned. ‘I can’t do anything about my weekend; it would mean re-arranging the rota.’ His brow cleared. ‘I could go to your home on my own, if they’d have me?’

She stifled a feeling of disappointment, feeling mean that she should grudge him the weekend she should have shared with him. ‘Of course they will. They’ll love to have you. I’ll phone Mother.’

‘Splendid. I must go, darling. A pity about our weekend.’ He sounded cheerful. She watched him go, feeling unreasonably cross.