Читать книгу An Innocent Bride - Betty Neels, Бетти Нилс - Страница 8

AUNT THIRZA was surprised to receive a letter within the next few days, bidding her to attend a clinic at St Aldrick’s on the following Monday. She was inclined to grumble about this—such short notice and the awkward journey to the hospital. ‘A waste of time,’ she declared. ‘I think I shall not go.’

Katrina waited for her first annoyance to subside before saying mildly, ‘Well, since Dr Peters had taken the trouble to arrange for someone to see you it would be rather unkind to refuse to go. The appointment’s for eleven o’clock—we can catch an early train from Warminster and probably be home again by teatime.’

Bob from the garage drove them to the station—an unavoidable extravagance which for once Miss Gibbs ignored. It was a lovely morning, warm for the time of year, so that Katrina was able to wear the jersey dress and matching jacket which she kept for special occasions. And this was a special occasion—a day out in London, even if most of it would be spent on a bench in the hospital waiting room. The unbidden thought that she might see Professor Glenville again she squashed instantly; he would have for gotten about her, and even if he hadn’t he would hardly wish to renew their acquaintance…

The waiting room was large and crowded, and although they were in good time a nurse told them that they would probably have to wait for half an hour or so.

Aunt Thirza was tired, and had no objection to sitting quietly, and Katrina found plenty to interest her. Moreover, there was always the chance that Professor Glenville might appear. Unlikely, she thought. She didn’t know much about hospitals, but she thought that a well-known man such as Dr Peters had described would have consulting rooms, and only go to the hospital for some emergency or consultation.

It was almost noon by the time Miss Gibbs’ name was called.

‘I prefer to go by myself, Katrina,’ she said firmly. ‘No doubt if you are needed someone will come and tell you.’

She went off with a nurse, her back as stiff as a poker, and was ushered into one of the consulting rooms where she was asked to sit down while a sister took her blood pressure, her temperature, and asked her if she took medicine of any sort, and, if so, what?

‘I do not believe in pills and potions,’ said Aunt Thirza severely. ‘I am a healthy woman and do not need such things.’

Sister murmured in a non-committal manner and ushered her into the inner room, going to stand by the desk facing the door. Miss Gibbs fetched up by it. ‘Oh, it’s you!’ she declared sharply. ‘I do hope you understand that I have only agreed to come because Dr Peters and I are old friends and I wished to oblige him.’

The professor stood up and offered a hand. ‘Miss Gibbs. This is tiresome for you, I feel sure. Please sit down and tell me how I can help you.’

Miss Gibbs sat, still very erect. ‘I owe you an apology, Professor. I was much at fault not to express my gratitude for your help.’

‘Most understandable in the circumstances, Miss Gibbs.’ He had become politely remote. ‘And now, if you would answer a few questions? This shouldn’t take long.’

Aunt Thirza gave succinct replies to his quiet questions, watching him write them down. He looked very reassuring sitting there, and very handsome, too, and his manner was calming, although she told herself that she had no reason to be alarmed. He looked up presently.

‘If you would go with Sister, she will help you to undress. I shall need to examine you.’

‘Is that really necessary?’

‘Yes, Miss Gibbs.’ He glanced at Sister, who whisked Aunt Thirza into another small room, peeled her clothes off her with a practised hand, wrapped her in a shapeless white garment and helped her onto the couch. And when the professor came she took possession of an elderly hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze so that Aunt Thirza, with nothing more than an annoyed snort, relaxed under his gentle hands.

Presently, once more dressed, her sensible hat firmly on her head again, she sat facing him at his desk. ‘Well,’ she asked, ‘are you going to tell me what is wrong? If there is anything wrong…’

‘You have anaemia, Miss Gibbs, something which we can deal with. I shall write to Dr Peters with my suggestions for your treatment and I should like to see you again. Shall we say in two weeks’ time?’

‘If you think it is necessary,’ Aunt Thirza said grumpily. ‘It is quite a long journey.’

He said smoothly, ‘You have someone with you today? Your niece?’

‘Katrina, yes.’ She gave him a sharp look, but he only smiled blandly.

‘I’m sorry I have no time in which to meet her again. Please thank her for her letter.’

The letter, so stiff and written with obvious reluctance, had made him smile.

He stood up and shook hands, and when Sister came back from ushering Aunt Thirza out, he said, ‘A pity. It’s lymphatic leukaemia, and I suspect she has had it for some time. We’ll treat it, of course. There is always a chance that she will live for a number of years. Luckily it isn’t rapid. But it is fatal…’

‘A nice old thing, too,’ said Sister. ‘There’s a very pretty girl with her.’

‘That will be her niece.’ He made a mental note to talk to Katrina and explain about her aunt. Miss Gibbs was a strong-minded old lady, but he had no intention of telling her the truth until necessary.

He sat writing at his desk and found himself wondering what would happen to Katrina if Miss Gibbs were to die. He wished he had seen her again. The temptation had been great to send a nurse with a message asking her to see him, but then Aunt Thirza would have smelled a rat. He must arrange to go to Dr Peters’ surgery so that he could explain about her aunt’s illness.

He asked for his next patient and forgot Katrina.

But he remembered again as he drove himself home that evening. Katrina would have to be told the true state of affairs—something which Dr Peters was quite able to do, but which for some reason he felt obliged to do himself.

Life, for the next few days, returned to normal for Aunt Thirza and Katrina. Dr Peters came, prescribed pills, advised rest, no excitement and a suitable diet, offered reassurance and went away again, with the suggestion that Katrina should collect the pills the next morning at the surgery.

‘Such a fuss,’ said Aunt Thirza, but for once did what she had been told to do, sitting down with her knitting and allowing Katrina to get on with the household chores.

While she hung out the washing and pulled radishes and lettuce for their lunch Katrina allowed her faint suspicions to surface. Dr Peters had been almost too reassuring. She would ask him to tell her exactly what was wrong in the morning…

There was no need, for when she went into the surgery he told her. ‘We do not need to give up hope,’ he said. ‘Your aunt’s illness is almost always slow in its progress, and she is elderly.’ He glanced at her to see if she had understood and she nodded. ‘There is no reason to tell her at the moment, but if at any time she should ask then Professor Glenville will explain it to her. By the way, he is coming here on Sunday; he thinks it advisable that he should talk to you so that you understand fully and know what to expect.’

She said rather tartly, ‘Is there any need for that? Surely you can tell me anything I need to know.’

Dr Peters said mildly, ‘My dear, Professor Glenville is at the very top of his profession. If there is a way by which your aunt can be helped he will do that, but he would need co-operation, and you are the one to give that. He suggests that I invite your aunt to spend Sunday with us. She and Mary are old friends; there is plenty for them to gossip about. And when she is safely out of the house the professor will call on you.’

‘He won’t expect lunch?’

Dr Peters hid a smile. ‘Most unlikely! A cup of coffee should suffice. You don’t like him, Katrina?’

‘I’m not sure…’

‘But you trust him?’

‘Yes, and I’ll do anything to help Aunt Thirza.’ She hesitated. ‘I suppose you don’t know how long?’

‘No, my dear, I don’t. That is a question for Professor Glenville; he will be better able to answer than I.’

So Katrina went back home with a note from Mrs Peters, and Aunt Thirza agreed with pleasure to spend the day with her friends. ‘You won’t be lonely, Katrina? I know it wouldn’t be very interesting for you to accompany me, but it might be preferable to sitting here on your own.’

‘I shan’t sit,’ said Katrina promptly. ‘There’s heaps of work in the garden, and I can get on with it without being interrupted. I’ve all those lettuces to transplant, and the rhubarb to pull, and I want to dig that empty patch at the bottom of the garden. Remember those seedlings I got from the farm? If I don’t get them in there won’t be any peas later on.’

Dr Peters was coming for her aunt soon after ten o’clock on Sunday, so Katrina was up early, tidying the little house, getting breakfast, and making sure that her aunt had all she needed for her day out. As she herself was going to work in the garden she had got into an elderly cotton jersey dress, faded to a gentle blue and, had she but known it, very flattering to her shapely curves. She had no intention of dressing up just because Professor Glenville chose to call. She tied her hair back with a ribbon and dug her feet into sandals. Digging was hot work, and now that it was May the days were warmer.

Her aunt safely away, Katrina put the coffee pot on the stove, cups and saucers on a tray with a tin of biscuits, and went down the garden to the shed at the bottom. She found her fork and spade, a trug for the rhubarb, and set to work. First the rhubarb…

She had the trug half full when the professor drew up silently, opened the gate, mindful of its creaking, and trod up the path to the open door of the house. There was no answer to his knock, naturally enough, and after a few moments he wandered down the garden to be rewarded by the sight of Katrina, bent double over the rhubarb.

His quiet, ‘Good morning, Katrina,’ brought her upright, clutching an armful of pink stalks.

‘Oh, Lord…I didn’t expect you so soon.’

He kept a straight face. ‘Shall I go for a drive around while you finish your gardening?’

‘I’m not gardening, only pulling rhubarb. I was going to dig that patch over there.’ She pointed with a stick of the fruit. ‘I told Aunt Thirza I would and she’ll wonder why if it isn’t done.’

‘The pair of us should be able to get that done later on…’ At her look of surprise, he added, ‘I like gardening.’ ‘You do? All right. I don’t suppose it will take long, whatever it is that you have to tell me.’ She dusted off her grubby hands. ‘Come and have a cup of coffee first.’ She added belatedly, ‘This must be spoiling your Sunday?’

The professor, beginning to enjoy himself, assured her that it was still early and he had the whole day before him.

‘I expect you are glad to be out of London for the day,’ said Katrina, leading the way into the house.

They had their coffee in the little living room, with the sun shining in on the rather shabby chairs and the polished sofa table and old-fashioned chiffonnier, both old and valuable. It shone on Katrina’s wealth of hair, too, and the professor admired it silently. A strikingly lovely girl, he had to admit, who made no effort to engage his attention.

When she had refilled their cups, Katrina said, ‘What was it you wanted to tell me? It’s about Aunt Thirza, of course. Dr Peters said he would prefer you to explain in more detail.’ For a moment she faltered.

‘Your aunt has lymphatic leukaemia, which is incurable, although there is a great deal to be done which can prolong her life. But one must consider the fact that she is no longer young. It is a slow-moving illness. Indeed it can be compatible with a normal lifespan.’

Katrina didn’t look at him; she was staring out of the window. ‘You mean that Aunt Thirza might—might live until her death without knowing?’

‘Yes, that is exactly what I do mean. Unless she asks me to tell her chapter and verse, in which case I should do so. I hope that will not happen, and I suggest that she is allowed to believe that she has a simple anaemia which we shall treat in the prescribed way. She is a sensible lady, is she not? And she will go along with any treatment we suggest—pills, of course, diet, rest.’ He added abruptly, ‘You can cope with that?’

‘Yes, of course I can.’ She looked at him then, and he saw that her eyes were filled with tears. ‘I owe everything to Aunt Thirza. She gave me a home when no one else wanted me.’

A tear escaped and trickled down her cheek, and for a moment he had a vision of a small sad girl whom no one had wanted. He offered a beautifully laundered handkerchief and said nothing; he sensed that if he did speak she would dislike him even more. He had been the bearer of bad news, and now he had seen her in tears. He sat quietly until she had mopped her face and mumbled that she would launder his handkerchief and send it to him.

‘I never cry,’ she told him fiercely.

‘How old were you when you came to live here?’ He sounded friendly, and she responded to the sound of his quiet voice.

‘Twelve. Mother and Father died in an air crash on their way back from the Middle East. Father built bridges and sometimes Mother went with him.’

‘No brothers or sisters? No family other than your aunt?’

‘No, but several other aunts and uncles, and cousins…’ She broke off. ‘This is boring for you. Will you tell me what you intend to do for Aunt Thirza and advise me as to the best way to look after her?’

‘Certainly I will.’ He glanced out of the window. ‘It’s a lovely morning. Would you come back with me to my home and have lunch? We can discuss every small detail at our leisure.’

‘Lunch?’ said Katrina. ‘Lunch with you?’ Her unflatter ing surprise caused his thin mouth to twitch with sudden amusement. ‘But I can’t; I’ve got that digging to do.’ She added belatedly, ‘Thank you.’

Over the years the professor had cultivated a bedside manner second to none: courteous and matter-of-fact, nicely laced with sympathy.

‘How would it be if I do the digging while you do whatever you need to do? Don’t dress up; it will only be the two of us.’

Just as though he couldn’t care less what I look like, thought Katrina peevishly. She said loudly, ‘You can’t dig in those clothes…’

He wore beautifully cut trousers, an open-necked shirt and a cashmere sweater, not to mention the shoes on his large feet.

He didn’t answer her but got to his feet. ‘Fifteen minutes be long enough?’ he wanted to know, and went unhurriedly into the garden.

‘The nerve of him,’ said Katrina to herself, clashing cups and saucers together, and then spun round.

‘Nerve is something which the medical profession have to employ from time to time, Katrina. You don’t mind if I call you Katrina?’ he said mildly. ‘You don’t look like a Miss Gibbs. I came back to ask if there is a bigger spade?’

‘In the shed.’

He went away again, and she put everything in the sink and went up to her room. She wasn’t going to change her dress, for it was apparent to her that he couldn’t care less what she wore, but she changed her old sandals for a better pair and attacked her mane of hair, subduing it to tidiness and a neat coil in the nape of her neck. She powdered her face too, and used lipstick, took a quick look at herself in the little mirror on the dressing table and went downstairs.

She was spooning cat food into a bowl for the little cat when the professor joined her. He noted the lipstick, and the tidy head of hair, but all he said was, ‘What is your cat’s name?’

‘Betsy.’

She put the saucer on the floor for the small creature and said, ‘Had I better come and look?’

He had made a very good job of it. Moreover he had managed to remain as elegant as he had been when he arrived. She thanked him warmly, forgetting how much he vexed her for the moment, and when he asked her if she was ready to leave said that she was, quite meekly. ‘Only I must just open the window in the kitchen so that Betsy can get in and out.’

They went out together, and he locked the door and put the key above it out of sight. ‘At what time shall your aunt return?’

‘She is to spend the day with the Peterses, so soon after tea, I suppose. Supposing she comes back earlier and I am not here?’

‘We will worry about that when it happens.’

Getting into the car, she asked, ‘Where do you live? In London? We’ll never get there and back…’

‘I live in Wherwell—a village south of Andover. I go to and fro to town; it’s an easy drive.’

It was a matter of thirty-five miles or so, and the big car swallowed them effortlessly. Beyond a casual remark from time to time the professor didn’t speak, and Katrina was glad of that as she tried to look into the future.

Of course she had always known that Aunt Thirza wouldn’t live for ever, but she had dismissed such thoughts from her mind as morbid. Her aunt had always seemed the same to her: brisk and matter-of-fact, full of energy, with a finger in every village pie. And as to her own future she had taught herself not to dwell too much on that. She was twenty-four, and the years she might have spent at university and later in some worthwhile job had slipped away, just as her chances of meeting a man who would want to marry her were slipping away.

Indeed, she knew very few young men, and they were either on the verge of marriage or already married. There had been men who had shown an interest in her, of course, but Aunt Thirza had frightened them off, though not intentionally.

She was roused from her thoughts by the professor observing that Wherwell was round the next bend in the country road, and she looked around her.

She fell in love with it immediately. There was no one around and the place drowsed in Sunday calm, the charming houses lining the street grouped round the church like a chocolate box picture.

When he stopped outside his own front door she got out slowly and stood looking around her.

‘You live here?’ she asked, and blushed because it was such a silly question. ‘Such a beautiful house. You’re married, of course, and have children?’

He didn’t speak for a moment, looking down his splendid nose at her, and the blush, which had been fading, returned with a vengeance.

‘I am not married, nor do I have children. There is, of course, always that possibility in the future.’

‘I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked you that. It’s none of my business.’

‘No. It isn’t. You feel that the house is wasted on me?’

‘No, no. It’s so beautiful—and the garden…’

‘Yes. I enjoy the garden; the house has been in the family for a long time.’

Peach had opened the door, gravely welcoming his master and then, when he was introduced to Katrina, shaking the hand she offered. A nice young lady, he thought, a sight nicer than that Mrs Carew. Widow she might be, and handsome enough, but never so much as wished him good day. If ever she managed to marry the professor Peach felt in his bones that he and Mrs Peach would be in for a rough time.

He said now, ‘The dogs are in the garden, sir.’ And indeed their barks made that evident enough. ‘Would you and Miss Gibbs like coffee?’

‘No, thanks, Peach, we’ve had it. May we have lunch in half an hour or so?We have to go back in a couple of hours.’

‘I’ll tell Mrs Peach. Would the young lady like to refresh herself?’

The professor eyed Katrina. ‘She looks all right to me.’

He lifted eyebrows at Katrina, who said coldly, ‘Thank you, not at the moment.’

‘Good. We’ll be in the garden, Peach.’

He walked her down the hall and out of the door at its end, to be met by Barker and Jones. Katrina offered a fist to Barker. ‘He’s beautiful,’ she said, and scratched the top of his sleek head, and then bent down to do the same for Jones.

‘Why Jones?’ she asked.

‘We are not quite sure, but we suspect that there may be Welsh blood in him. A trace of Corgi.’

‘They’re friends?’

‘Oh, yes. Jones is Barker’s faithful follower!’

He led the way along a garden path to a gazebo over looking a pool fed by a small rivulet emerging from a clump of trees at the end of the garden. Katrina sat down and looked about her. The garden wasn’t formal; it was like a large cottage garden. In full summer, she supposed, it would be full of old-fashioned flowers. One side sloped downhill to the kitchen garden, with high walls, thatched like the house, and on the other side there was a wide green path bordered by flowerbeds. She gave a sigh of content.

‘Will you tell me what I must do to help Aunt Thirza? And what sort of treatment she is to have.’

‘That is my intention. Bad news is never as bad if it is given in the right surroundings, is it? Now sit still and don’t interrupt…’

He didn’t try to make light of the matter, but neither was he full of gloomy forebodings. ‘We must take each day as it comes. Your aunt may fail so slowly that it is barely noticeable; on the other hand she may die without any warning. If you can accept that, it will help you. Don’t stop her from doing what she wishes to do. I think that she is someone who would dislike being an invalid, but try and discreetly curb her activities as much as possible. Dr Peters will be keeping an eye on her and will keep you up to date. Now, as to diet…’

Katrina listened carefully, and the thought crossed her mind that perhaps she didn’t dislike him after all. She didn’t like him, but only because she knew nothing about him, and she was grateful to him…

The professor glanced at his watch, whistled the dogs, and they went back to the house to have lunch. Aunt Thirza wasn’t mentioned again. Instead he led the talk to Katrina’s own interests, slipping in questions about her life so that by the time they left the table he had a very good idea of it. And pretty dull too, he reflected, watching her pour coffee into the delicate porcelain coffee cups. She might be buried alive in the country, but she had the potential for a career of some sort. He asked abruptly, ‘How old are you, Katrina?’

‘Twenty-four. Don’t you know it’s rude to ask a girl how old she is?’

‘I stand corrected. Unfortunately it is a question I have to ask all my patients—it has become a bad habit.’

‘Oh, well, I don’t mind. How old are you, Professor?’

He laughed, and she thought that he looked ten years younger. ‘Thirty-nine. Middle-aged.’

‘Rubbish, no one is middle-aged these days. You were fifteen when I was born…’

‘You had a happy childhood, Katrina, for those first twelve years?’

She nodded. ‘Yes.’She wanted to ask him if he had been happy as a boy, but she didn’t dare. She mustn’t allow herself to get too friendly with him, although she didn’t think that there was much fear of that. He would never allow it.

Presently he said, ‘We should be going,’ and she got to her feet at once, anxious not to outstay her welcome.

‘It was kind of you to ask me to come here,’ she told him. ‘I hope I haven’t spoilt your day.’ And, when Peach came into the hall, she said, ‘Will you tell Mrs Peach that lunch was lovely? I wish I could cook like that.’

Indeed it had been lovely. Potted shrimps and brown bread and butter, cut wafer-thin, rack of lamb with tiny new potatoes, and rhubarb fool to follow with clotted cream. The professor certainly lived well. Sitting beside him in the car, she wondered if he earned a great deal of money, and thought he probably did. Dr Peters had said that he was highly regarded, and of course it must cost a great deal to train as a doctor. She voiced her thoughts out loud.

‘Does it cost a lot of money to train as a doctor?’

If he was surprised by her question he didn’t show it.

‘Yes, but it isn’t only the money; it’s the years of hard work.’

‘Have you been a doctor for a long time?’

‘I qualified when I was twenty-three…’

‘But you took more exams, I expect?’

‘Any number.’

‘But you’ve got there, haven’t you? I mean, to the top of your particular tree?’

‘Perhaps, but there is always something more to learn.’ He glanced at her. ‘Have you ever wished to train for a profession, Katrina?’

‘Oh, yes. You know how it is when you leave school; you’re full of ideas. But I’m happy with Aunt Thirza, and I’d hate to live in a town—a big town.’

He drew up outside the cottage, got out and opened her door. The little house looked charming in the afternoon sun, and Betsy was sitting by the door, waiting for them. He took the key from its hiding place, unlocked the door and they all went in.

Katrina let out a breath. ‘How awful if Aunt Thirza had been here. Whatever would I have told her?’

‘Oh, I would have thought of something feasible before you had a chance to blurt out the truth. Shall we have tea?’

‘Is there time?’She was putting the kettle on the gas ring as she spoke. She suddenly didn’t want to be left alone with her thoughts.

They drank their tea presently, not saying much and not mentioning Aunt Thirza either, and soon the professor got into his car and drove away. Katrina had thanked him for her lunch, for digging the garden, for his advice, and he had put up a large hand and begged her to say no more, so that she had the lowering feeling that she had been too effusive.

But she had other things to think about. While she got the supper ready she went over everything that the professor had told her; she mustn’t forget a word of it…

Aunt Thirza returned, full of good spirits, and Dr Peters stayed for a while, chatting about their day. ‘We must do it more often,’ he observed. ‘You and Mary have much in common, and she’s absolutely delighted that you’ve agreed to help with the church bazaar.’ He glanced at Katrina. ‘I suppose you’ll be expected to give a hand, Katrina?’

‘I’m behind the scenes this year, cutting sandwiches and serving teas.’

Over supper Aunt Thirza was full of plans. ‘I do so enjoy the summer months,’she explained. ‘Such a lot going on—fêtes and bazaars and tennis tournaments, and I hear that the church school is putting on a play at the end of term. More than enough to keep us busy.’

She put down her knife and fork. ‘I had such a splendid lunch I’m really not hungry. Did you get the digging done?’

Katrina said that yes, she had. Well, it wasn’t quite a fib put that way. ‘There’s still a lot to do. Everything’s growing nicely, though. We need some rain.’

It was surprising how difficult it was to talk about mundane things when what she really wanted to do was to fling her arms round her aunt and have a good howl.

The days slipped away in the orderly routine which Aunt Thirza had established when she retired and had no intention of altering. Katrina did her best to check the old lady’s more active interests, but it wasn’t easy. Indeed, Aunt Thirza had remarked once or twice that anyone would think that she was ill.

‘Those pills I take will soon put me back on my feet,’ she observed. ‘There are any number of things which I wish to do this summer.’

Since there was no gainsaying her, Katrina gave up urging her to eat the tasty meals she cooked, and drink the milk Dr Peters had told her would improve her condition, although she managed in a dozen ways to take over more of the household chores, pointing out that her aunt was busy enough with the various functions being organised.

But Aunt Thirza wasn’t getting better. Katrina could see that she was paler and easily tired, although she would never admit it, and Dr Peters had told her that her latest blood test showed no improvement.

‘But it’s not worse?’

He said cautiously, ‘Let us say that it is no better.’Which to Katrina’s ears didn’t sound like an answer at all.

They were to go to St Aldrick’s very shortly. Aunt Thirza had had a letter from the professor’s secretary, asking her to attend his clinic.

‘You’ll come with me,’ said Aunt Thirza, ‘and if he doesn’t keep me hanging around for too long we will have a look at the shops. I need some new teatowels—John Lewis will do nicely.’

It was already warm by the time they set out, and when they reached the hospital Aunt Thirza was tired and ill tempered.

‘This is nonsense,’ she told Katrina. ‘I’m sure there is no need for Professor Glenville to see me again. I feel perfectly well except for this tiredness, and that’s to be expected when you are as old as I am.’

‘You’re only seventy-something,’Katrina reminded her. ‘I dare say this will be the last time, just to check that everything is going according to plan.’

She sat quietly and wondered if she would see the professor. It seemed unlikely, for it wasn’t a social call and there were rows of patients for him to see. Her aunt was one of many, and she wondered again just how eminent he was. What did he do in his free time? He had hinted that he might marry, so he would spend his evenings with whoever it was he intended to marry. Did they go dancing, she wondered, or dine at some marvellous restaurant? Or did she go home with him and spend the evening eating Mrs Peach’s delicious dinners?

A nurse called her aunt’s name and Katrina watched her disappear down the short corridor lined with doors. The professor’s room was the nearest. She glanced at her watch. They had been waiting for more than half an hour and her aunt would be fifteen minutes or so. If they were to go to the shops they would have to catch a later train.

Aunt Thirza came back, some twenty minutes later, her back poker-straight, looking annoyed. She marched out with Katrina hurrying to keep up with her.

Outside, on the pavement of the busy street, Katrina said, ‘What has he told you,Aunt, something to upset you?’

Her heart gave a sickening thump. Surely her aunt hadn’t asked an outright question, demanded the truth?

‘He says I must come here again in three weeks’time. It seems the anaemia isn’t responding to treatment. It sometimes happens, he told me, and I must have patience. It may take a little longer than he had hoped. I have to get more pills from Dr Peters.’She smiled suddenly. ‘Last time I was here we mentioned the garden, and he said he had noticed that there was a small moss rose under the window, not doing too well. He has to come our way on Sunday and he asked if I would accept a rose bush—he has several in his garden and will need to discard a few. He’ll come for coffee.’

‘How kind,’ said Katrina, wondering just why he was doing that, and planning to bake a batch of her almond biscuits which sold so well at village functions. The news wasn’t good, but hopefully she would get the chance to ask him what exactly was happening. Surely there was something, some treatment—a blood transfusion—to halt her aunt’s illness.

‘Well, don’t look so glum,’said Aunt Thirza, once more her brisk self. ‘He’s rather nice. Now, let’s get a bus to Oxford Street.’