Читать книгу The Fateful Bargain - Betty Neels, Бетти Нилс - Страница 8

EMILY HAD NO intention of doing anything of the sort; she told herself that a dozen times during the day. It was absurd anyway—how could she possibly go out with anyone in the elderly coat she wore to work? She would have had a long day and she would be tired and her hair would look awful. He must have been joking—but just to be on the safe side, she would go out through the side entrance. She would have to nip across the back of the entrance hall to reach it, but no one would see her.

All the same, she rushed back to her room during her three hours off after midday dinner, saw to Podge, washed her hair and, while it was drying, did her nails. Not because she had any intention of accepting Mr van Tecqx’s surprising invitation, indeed she still wasn’t sure if it was a joke. And she was far too busy to speculate about that during the evening; there were arms and legs to prepare ready for operation in the morning and supper to serve, and since both staff nurses were off duty and she was on with Sister Cook, there was the added complication of keeping out of that lady’s way as much as possible.

At length she was allowed to go, and skipped through the corridors and down the stairs to the cloakroom, where she bundled on her coat and with no thought as to her appearance, hurried down the back stairs to the back of the entrance hall. It was empty, although she could see Briggs’ bald head in his lodge. Quelling a wish to go out of the entrance and have supper with Mr van Tecqx even as, she strongly suspected, he wouldn’t be waiting for her, Emily nipped across the hall and opened the side door used by the staff and those fortunate enough to travel in their own cars.

The Bentley was parked exactly outside the door and Mr van Tecqx was leaning against its bonnet. Emily would have bounced back inside, only he was beside her before she could do so.

‘I am much encouraged,’ he told her, ‘to find that we think alike—you, that you would escape by this door, and I quite certain of it. Come along, now, I’m hungry.’

Emily stood outside the door, his hand on her arm. ‘Look, Mr van Tecqx, this really won’t do—you’re a consultant and I’m not even trained…’

A silly sort of remark, she realised as soon as she had uttered it. She tried again. ‘I can’t possibly go out with you in this.’ She waved a hand at her coat.

‘Well, of course you can’t. I’ll drive you to your lodgings and wait while you tidy yourself. You can have ten minutes; I’ve booked a table for half past eight.’

She made no effort to move. ‘You were sure I would come?’

‘No, that’s why I waited here.’ He smiled at her suddenly, which somehow made it perfectly normal to be going out to supper with him, although she was convinced that when she had the time to think about it she would be horrified. ‘Student nurses just don’t go out with consultants,’ she voiced her thoughts out loud.

‘There is always a first time.’

He popped her into the car and got in beside her.

Outside her gate she said, ‘I’m sorry I can’t ask you in—I’ve only got one room…’

For answer he got out of the car and went to open the door for her. ‘Ten minutes,’ he reminded her carefully.

Emily fed Podge, washed her face and made it up rather sketchily, then tore into her only decent dress—navy blue needlecord, bought in a C & A sale. Her coat was navy blue too, almost as elderly as the one she wore to work but neatly brushed and pressed. Her hair she brushed and tied back with a ribbon, as there was no time to pin it up. She thrust her feet into her one pair of high-heeled shoes, caught up her handbag and gloves, patted Podge and told him to be a good boy, and went out of the house followed by Mrs Winter’s shrill voice.

‘Got yerself a boyfriend, dearie? ’Ave a nice evening!’

If Mr van Tecqx heard her he gave no sign, merely remarked that punctuality was a virtue he seldom met with among his female acquaintances and stowed Emily into the car again.

He took her to Bubb’s, just off the Farringdon Road and only a short distance away from Pearson’s, and she was relieved to find that the people dining there were dressed very much as she was. The navy blue outfit, dull though it was, had the virtue of being inconspicuous. But she forgot to be shy in her companion’s placid company; he talked as easily as anything about this and that, ordered her a sherry and told her to order what she fancied, and when she tried to make a bewildered choice, offered to do it for her: salmon mousse on a bed of lettuce, breast of chicken in an aspic glaze, accompanied by a variety of vegetables, followed by nougat glacé with strawberries and topped with cream.

The good food loosened her tongue, and, skilfully drawn out by her companion, Emily talked, something she hadn’t done so freely with anyone for a very long time, but somehow her companion gave the impression of being a comfortable listener, putting questions just at the right moment, saying little. She was carried away, what with the delicacies which she was offered, the wine she was drinking and Mr van Tecqx’s gentle interest. She was on the point of telling him her plans for her father when common sense took over and she stopped in mid-sentence.

Mr van Tecqx studied her face, on which a look of shocked wariness had settled. ‘Yes?’ he prompted softly.

‘Oh, nothing—I can’t remember what I was going to say, it wasn’t in the least important. I hope I haven’t bored you, Mr van Tecqx; this wine doesn’t taste as strong as the bottle we got from the supermarket when Staff Nurse had her birthday…but I’m not used to drinking wine…’

Mr van Tecqx preserved an admirable calm. To anyone who compared the very expensive Chablis Grand Cru with something cheap probably chosen because of its pretty label, he would have been scathing in his opinion of such gross ignorance, but all he did was agree with her blandly, and when she added in her sensible way, ‘I’m afraid it made me talk too much,’ said politely,

‘Not at all, Emily—you don’t mind if I call you Emily?’

She shook her head. ‘Everyone does.’ She hesitated. ‘Why did you ask me to have dinner with you, Mr van Tecqx?’

‘I’m a stranger in a strange land, and you have a kind appearance, Emily.’

It seemed to her that he was quite at home in London; his English was only very faintly accented, he knew his way around the city and if Staff Nurse was to be believed, he delivered scholarly lectures at hospitals other than Pearson’s. She stared at him across the table. Because of the wine she had drunk his handsome features were slightly fuzzy round the edges, but even so, he was by far the most magnificent man she had ever met. She said now, ‘You must have a great many friends.’

‘Indeed, I have. Now, Emily, what was it you were going to tell me?’

‘Oh, I can’t remember…’

‘About your father?’ he prompted gently.

Her denial was instant, ‘No, no, it wasn’t anything…’

He had already discovered where she lived, now he observed, ‘You must miss village life—Pearson’s is situated in very drab surroundings. You look forward to your days off, I expect.’

Emily poured them more coffee. ‘Oh, yes—only I don’t go home each week.’ She stopped again, her wretched tongue tripping along ahead of her wits. She expected him to ask, ‘And why not?’ Only he didn’t, knowing that she wasn’t going to tell him anyway.

He said easily: ‘It is always a surprise to me that there is such charming country so close to London. Even in London itself—Hampstead and Richmond—one could almost be living in the country.’

She was on safe ground again; they did discuss London and its environs, until she said diffidently that she had to be in by eleven o’clock. ‘I haven’t an outdoor key, and Mrs Winter is very strict about us being in by then unless we make special arrangements.’

‘There are other people living there?’

‘Oh, yes, there are six rooms—she calls them flatlets and she’s fussy about the tenants.’

‘And you have a flatlet?’

There was no point in pretending. ‘Well, no. Just a room—it’s the attic really. But I’ve a sink and a little stove. It’s quite cosy.’ She uttered the lie cheerfully, relieved to see that he accepted it without comment, paid the bill and settled her in the car once more.

At her gate she said, ‘Please don’t get out—there’s no need.’

A waste of breath, for he went with her up the path and opened the street door, to be confronted by Mrs Winter standing at the top of the basement stairs. ‘There you are—I was jus’ wondering?’ She eyed Mr van Tecqx with belligerence. ‘Me tenants ‘as ter be in by eleven o’clock unless there’s an arrangement made.’

‘Very wise,’ said Mr van Tecqx. ‘I am relieved to hear it. One cannot be too careful.’ He looked down at Emily, standing silently beside him. ‘Thank you for a delightful evening, Emily.’

She was very conscious of Mrs Winter’s interested eyes. ‘Thank you for my dinner, Mr van Tecqx, I enjoyed the evening very much. Goodnight.’

He answered her unsmilingly, bade Mrs Winter goodnight and went away, shutting the door quietly behind him. Mrs Winter secured the bolts.

‘Wot did yer ’ave ter eat?’ she asked.

Podge was waiting impatiently when Emily reached her room. She gave him his warm milk, got ready for bed and made a pot of tea while she told him about her evening. He sat, tidying his whiskers, his round eyes on her face, and when she observed in a puzzled voice, ‘I can’t think why he asked me out; Podge, even if he was lonely. I’m quite sure he must know lots of pretty girls with the right clothes…’ he jumped on to her lap and butted her with his round head, offering a sympathy he felt was needed.

‘Although,’ went on Emily, thinking aloud, ‘I ought to feel over the moon, oughtn’t I?’

She got into bed, and with Podge curled up on her feet, went to sleep at once. In the morning, hurrying through the usual routine, the previous evening seemed like a distant dream.

That was how it was going to stay, she decided sensibly. She had let her tongue run away with her and told Mr van Tecqx far too much about herself, while he had remained reticent about himself. She blushed at the thought.

Even if she had wanted to, she was given no opportunity of saying so much as a ‘Good morning, sir,’ for the best part of the week. True, he appeared at his rounds, but she was not on duty for all of them, and when she was, she did no more than hand case sheets, hovering on the fringe of the group making its steady way from bed to bed, and once or twice when she had seen him as she hurried to the dispensary or the laundry at Sister’s command it had seemed to her that he had deliberately not seen her. She had plenty of good sense; she told herself that it was only to be expected. Just because he had taken her out—no doubt on a sudden whim—it didn’t mean to say that he had any interest in her. They didn’t move in the same circles, a fact brought home to him when he had accompanied her to her lodgings. With good sense Emily bundled all thought of him to the back of her head, and even though his image popped out again far too often for her peace of mind, she thrust it back where it belonged—with her vague daydreams of the future.

The ward was full and a number of patients needed careful and constant nursing. Two burly young men who had fallen from a scaffolding on a high-rise block of flats had fractured spines, both with a degree of paralysis; they were nursed on ripple beds and had to be turned every two hours; no easy task and a continuous drain on the nurses’ time, and, more than that, they had to be kept cheerful until such time as the paralysis should give way to the return of sensation. At the other end of the ward there was another young man recovering from the laminectomy which Mr van Tecqx had recently performed. A sprinkling of broken arms and legs and three fractured skulls made up the ward’s inhabitants, most of them recovering nicely, but it was heavy work, and several times Emily saw Sister Cook looking at her in a thoughtful way, measuring her small person against the immovable arms and legs and backs and doubtless wondering if Emily would hold out. Which made Emily work all the harder, but it was worth it. She was learning as she worked, and even though she hadn’t laughed all the way to the bank on pay-day, at least she smiled widely when she saw her nest-egg swell with the latest contribution.

What made it even more worth while was the discovery that one of the spinal fractures wiggled his toes as she was bed-bathing him. Even Sister Cook smiled at her and observed with slightly less acidity than usual that Emily had been most observant in her work. The Registrar was sent for and he in his turn requested the presence of Mr van Tecqx.

It was after he had finished his examination and expressed his opinion that his patient was on the mend, standing at the foot of the bed with Sister, his Registrar and, since Staff Nurse wasn’t available, Emily, that he addressed her. ‘You are to be commended for your sharp eyes, Nurse.’ She gave a slight smile and he gave her a kindly smile as he walked away.

Emily went pink and a nearby patient with his leg slung up on a Balkan Beam said indignantly, ‘Well, I’ll be blowed! ‘E could at least ’ave given you a pat on the shoulder, ducks.’

Emily gave him a severe look. ‘Certainly not, Mr Crump, that wouldn’t do at all—besides, any one of us could have been me.’

Upon which muddled speech she tucked him in with a brisk motherliness and started off down the ward. She was met half-way by one of the first-year nurses. ’emily, you’re to go to Sister’s Office—’ She paused to take a breath. ‘He’s there!’

‘Who’s he?’ But Emily knew without being told. Was she going to be ticked off about something she should or should not have done? She was casting round anxiously in her mind as she pushed open the door of the Office to find Sister, Henry Parker, looking amused, and Mr van Tecqx, looking bland.

It was Sister who spoke. ‘Nurse Grenfell, Mr van Tecqx has made a suggestion to me which I’m sure will gratify you. It seems that he has to drive past your home on your day off—tomorrow—and offers to give you a lift. It’s most kind of him, and I’m sure you will be delighted to accept his most generous offer.’

Emily cast a quick look at him. He was gazing out of the window at the vista of chimneypots, just as though the conversation had nothing to do with him. She felt tempted to refuse since his offer, given second-hand as it were, held no vestige of interest, but on the other hand an unexpected chance to go home wasn’t to be missed. She said with polite woodenness, ‘Thank you, Sister, I shall be most grateful to have a lift home.’

Mr van Tecqx turned away from his scrutiny of the hospital’s environment. There was a faint tremor at the corners of his firm mouth which might have been the beginnings of a smile. ‘My pleasure, Nurse. No doubt Sister will be kind enough to give you the details at her convenience.’

Sister Cook gave a regal nod. ‘Certainly, sir. You may go, Nurse.’

Emily went.

She had to wait until the evening, when she was about to go off duty, before Sister Cook sailed down the ward towards her. ‘Trouble on the way,’ warned a patient sotto voce. The patients liked her, she was such a scrap of a thing and yet nothing was too much trouble for her. She pinched out a cigarette from a patient’s hand and turned a calm face to her superior.

‘I smell smoke,’ declared Sister Cook, and cast a suspicious look around her. She allowed smoking on the ward, but only at hours dictated by herself.

‘It’s always rather smoky at this time in the evening,’ volunteered Emily in her calm way. ‘I suppose it’s all the chimneys and people coming home from work. Shall I close the windows, Sister?’

Sister Cook had a thing about fresh air, even though it wasn’t all that fresh in that part of London. She said no quite sharply and added, ‘I have a message for you, Nurse Grenfell. Mr van Tecqx will be outside your flat a half past eight in the morning. Don’t keep him waiting, Nurse. He’s a busy man.’

Emily was ready and waiting when she saw the car stop before her lodgings in the morning. She picked up her overnight bag, took a grip of Podge’s basket, and went down to the front door. Mr van Tecqx was on the step, searching in vain for a bell or a knocker. She wished him good morning politely and he said sharply, ‘For heaven’s sake stop calling me Sir with every other breath!’

She got into the car and watched him stow Podge on the back seat. ‘Why ever not?’ she asked him. ‘I’m expected to do so.’

‘Not by me, you’re not, not when we are away from Pearson’s. I must say I find it very tiresome having to ignore you or at best look through you when I’m on my rounds.’

A remark which surprised Emily so much that she stayed silent while he settled beside her and drove off. As though he had read her thoughts he went on, ‘If I were to show the least sign of interest in you, Sister Cook would pounce. In her eyes, consultants and student nurses don’t mix; the fact that they are men and women as well has no bearing on the matter from her point of view.’

Emily said, ‘Oh, yes,’ rather inadequately.

‘So next time I ignore you on the ward you will know why.’

She sought for a suitable reply and came up with, ‘Oh—really?’

She heard him sigh and sought for a topic of conversation. Manners mattered, her mother had always told her, and she had always tried to remember that. ‘Are you going to Dover?’ she asked.

‘No—I have friends in Biddenden.’

The silence lasted a little too long. Emily tried again. ‘The country around there is charming, and Biddenden is charming too…’

They were going down the A20 towards Swanley; the road was moderately free from traffic and Mr van Tecqx was driving fast. ‘Tell me about your father?’ he invited.

‘My father?’ repeated Emily stupidly. ‘What do you mean—what do you know about him? I never…’

‘My dear girl, I have ways of finding out the things I wish to know. How long has he been waiting for hip replacements?’

Emily ignored him. ‘What do you know about my father—how dare you snoop…?’

‘My dear girl, I never snoop—I have no need to do so. I had occasion to discuss a patient with your father’s doctor and in the course of conversation mentioned that you were a nurse at Pearson’s and that he might know you. He told me of your father’s condition.’

Emily cast him a quick look. His profile was calm, his voice had been uninterested, there was no reason to doubt his word. She said reluctantly: ‘I’m sorry. He’s been waiting for more than a year and it will be another year before there’s a bed for him.’

‘That is the National Health?’ asked Mr van Tecqx gently.

‘Yes.’ She hesitated. ‘As a matter of fact, I found out how much it would cost for him to be a private patient—it would save a year of waiting.’

‘So he will go privately?’

‘Well, yes…’

‘As soon as you have saved the money?’ Mr van Tecqx’s voice was so quiet she barely heard it.

‘Yes.’

He nodded. ‘Do you know your doctor’s number?’

‘Yes, of course.’

‘Then ring him up now on the car phone, will you, and ask him to meet us at your father’s house in—let me see—half an hour’s time.’

Emily made no move to do as he had asked. ‘Why?’

‘Let us not waste time. Your GP can call me in for consultation—I’ll have a look at your father and see what can be done.’

She said a little wildly, ‘But there are no beds—I asked. Two years, they said, and I haven’t saved enough money.’

‘The phone, Emily.’ His voice held a note she didn’t care to argue with. She did as she was bidden and then sat silent until they reached Eynsford.

‘You have to go up Sparepenny Lane and past the Tollhouse—it’s the row of cottages a bit further on,’ she told him.

Dr Mason was already there. Emily kissed her father, was greeted cheerfully by the doctor and introduced Mr vanTecqx, who nodded at the doctor, remarking that they were acquainted, and then shook hands with her father.

Her father was not in the least surprised to see him. Dr Mason, he explained to Emily, had arranged it all and he for his part was delighted. ‘Although I dare say I shall still have another year or two to wait, but just to be told by you, Mr van Tecqx, that there’s a possibility of success is a great encouragement.’

Emily, swamped in the unexpectedness of it all and vaguely suspicious at the same time, allowed her parent to suggest that she might go along to the kitchen and make coffee for everyone. ‘And don’t hurry back,’ begged Mr Grenfell. ‘We can manage very nicely.’

Emily gave Mr van Tecqx a speaking glance and did as she was told. Matters for the moment at least, were out of her hands.

There was plenty to do in the kitchen. She arranged a tray, ground the coffee and set it in the old percolator on to the gas stove. Mrs Owen had been that morning, for the dishes were washed and stacked neatly, but the sink needed a good scrub and her idea of cleaning the floor wasn’t Emily’s. Emily took off her outdoor things, donned an apron and set to work. She was washing her hands at the now pristine sink when her father called to her to bring in the coffee. She had got a little untidy as she worked, but beyond tucking a stray lock of hair behind an ear, she had no time for more; she bore in the tray which Mr van Tecqx took for her and set on the table under the window.

It was very vexing that the three men were discussing cricket and showed no sign of changing the conversation. She handed out cups, sugar and biscuits and sat composedly, seething inwardly. It seemed a long time before Dr Mason put down his cup and saucer, declared that he still had the rest of his patients to see and he would leave them all to make the arrangements. He shook Mr Grenfell’s hand, gave Emily a friendly pat on the back with the injunction to be a good girl, then shook hands with Mr van Tecqx. ‘Give me a ring when you’re ready and I’ll fix things this end. I’m greatly obliged to you, Sebastian.’

Emily, itching to hear what they had all been discussing, was momentarily diverted by the idea of Mr van Tecqx being called Sebastian. She wondered if his friends called him Seb and decided that they wouldn’t dare—he would fix them with a glare from the blue eyes which were almost always half hidden by heavy lids. She studied him from where she sat. He must be around thirty-five, she supposed; his fair hair had a good deal of silver in it…

He had turned his head to look at her and she went bright pink and looked away, wishing fervently that she didn’t blush so easily.

‘I must admire your patience, Emily.’ He came and sat down between her and her father. ‘I think we might operate on your father within the next week or so.’

She sat up very straight. ‘But I—where will he go? Sister said there wasn’t a bed for months…’ She looked at her father. ‘Father, do explain!’

‘Well, dear, I think Mr van Tecqx can do that better than I. I shall leave it to him.’

‘Ah, yes—Emily, if you will walk with me to the car we can settle matters easily enough.’

Out of her father’s hearing she said urgently, ‘I don’t understand, and there you were talking about cricket…it’s all very well stating you’ll operate. Don’t think I’m ungrateful, but you don’t understand—it’ll have to be private, of course, and the thing is I haven’t saved enough money—it will be at least four or five months, and you might not be here then.’

‘No, I shan’t. Your father can have a bed in a private hospital where I sometimes send patients, and I will operate there, and he can convalesce in a rest home—there is a good one just outside Richmond.’

Emily stopped herself just in time from wringing her hands. ‘But you don’t understand!’ They were standing by the car and she stared up anxiously into his face.

‘If you would just trust me, Emily. I have to go—I’m already late—but I shall come for you tomorrow evening and I will explain. There will be no question of fees, but I want to strike a bargain with you. More about that later.’ With which infuriatingly unhelpful remark he got into his car and drove off.

Her father was just as unhelpful, not meaning to be but wanting to discuss every aspect of the operation and what it would mean in the future.

‘I must say,’ he observed happily to Emily, ‘it’s extremely good of Mr van Tecqx to make an operation possible. It seems he has beds at his disposal at some private hospital and the opportunity to operate before he returns to Holland. I mentioned fees, but he said he’d come to some arrangement with you, my dear. I dare say you can pull a few strings with the National Health people?’ He gave a chuckle. ‘Nursing must have its perks!’

Emily agreed cheerfully. There was no point in voicing her doubts and it was really wonderful to see her father so happy.

It was impossible to worry all the time. She cooked and cleaned and shopped in the village, then went for a rambling walk to go home in the gathering dusk to cook their supper and feed Podge, and her simple chores soothed her so that by the time Mr van Tecqx arrived at the gate she was prepared to hear whatever it was that he wanted to say.

He had arrived earlier than she had expected—he had said he would fetch her in the evening, but it was barely four o’clock and she had just made the tea. Probably he had a date in town, she decided, and invited him to have a cup of tea which she assured him was ready, and she was also quite ready to leave.

When he had drunk his tea and eaten a good deal of the cake she had made he still made no move to go. Instead, much to Emily’s surprise, he suggested that she might accompany him on a brief walk. ‘There are things which I have to say to you,’ he concluded.

‘Oh, well—all right. But don’t you have to get back to town? I thought that as you were here so early…’ She faltered at the smile and amused look on his face.

‘Of course I have to get back—so do you; that’s why I’m here so early.’

He waited patiently while she got her coat, tied a scarf around her head and made sure that her father was comfortable, and then accompanied him down the path and into the lane.

‘Somewhere quiet?’ he suggested.

‘Down the lane to the end; there’s a bridle path we can take, it will bring us out on the other side of the Tollhouse—about twenty minutes or so.’

‘Excellent.’

He had nothing to say for a minute or so and she prompted him with, ‘You want to strike a bargain?’

He was walking at his own pace, so that she had difficulty in keeping up with him. ‘Yes. I’m prepared to operate upon your father—both hips—within the next week or two. Neither I nor the anaesthetist nor the private hospital where I propose he should be will require fees, although I do ask something in return. I have a young sister—the youngest of four—nineteen years old. She contracted polio last year and is making a slow recovery—too slow for her. She is impatient, given to bouts of rage and fits of depression. She is wearing my mother down, and a succession of nurses come and go with predictable rapidity. She needs someone of her own age, someone calm and kind and patient and at the same time firm. She is a dear girl, make no mistake, and she will make an almost complete recovery; but at the moment she has stopped trying; she needs something new to get her going again. Do I make myself clear?’

‘Oh, perfectly.’ They were walking along the bridle path side by side. ‘But, Mr Van Tecqx, I’m not trained—I have another year to do. I’m not free, even if I wanted to be.’

‘I can arrange that.’

‘I have no doubt of that,’ Emily’s voice was dry. ‘But what about me? Am I to start all over again once your sister is well again?’

‘No. I think it can be arranged that you will need to do only an extra six months to complete your training after you have done your third year.’

‘And if I don’t agree?’ She stopped to look at him. ‘You won’t operate?’

His voice was silky. ‘My sister is very dear to me, Emily, and I imagine that your father is also dear to you. It amounts to this: You will help me and I shall help you.’

‘Yes, but there must be dozens of nurses who would do just as well as I would.’

‘Probably. Do you know dozens of surgeons who are willing to operate upon your father? Just think, Emily; within a few months he will have the use of his legs again; he will be able to walk to the village, go for rambles, even get a part-time job if he wishes—drive a car…’

‘It’s blackmail,’ she said fiercely.

He agreed blandly. ‘What is more, you will have to trust me completely, Emily. I give you my word that everything needful will be done for your father and that when, eventually, you are ready to return to nursing, you will be given every opportunity to take your exams at the earliest possible moment.’

They had gained the lane once more and were passing the Tollhouse; in another five minutes they would be back at her home. ‘Podge,’ said Emily suddenly.

‘I have a housekeeper who looks after me when I am in London. Would you consent to her looking after Podge while you are away?’

‘He might run away.’

‘Mrs Twig will take great care of him. He is not a very adventurous cat, is he? He has known hard times and he isn’t likely to leave a comfortable home.’

She said sharply, ‘You make it all sound so easy.’

‘As it is.’ They had arrived back at the cottage and had paused outside its door.

‘How long will it take—the operation on Father and then his convalescence?’

‘He will be on his feet by Christmas.’

‘And your sister?’

‘That will depend largely on you. But you have my word that the moment she is able to cope with life once more, you shall return to England. You will, of course, be paid a salary; you will not suffer financially.’

Emily was back at her old habit of doing sums in her head. She wouldn’t need to touch her savings—once she got back home she and her father would be able to have a holiday, a decent one at a hotel with no cheeseparing, and she would be able to live at the hospital again. She drew a deep breath. ‘All right, I’ll do it.’

He held out a large hand and she put hers into it. Probably she would wake up in the night and regret what she was doing, but just at that moment the whole plan seemed very sensible and easy, and above all, exactly what she had hoped for for her father.

‘I shall operate at the end of next week; your father will have limited walking exercise after twenty-four hours, his stitches will come out after a week or ten days and he will be home again before three weeks. The joint should be normal at the end of three months. I’ll do the second hip then.’

‘Yes, but who’s going to look after him? I won’t be at home, will I? He can’t stay in the hospital for months!’

‘I know just the person to look after him. If you will agree, she can move in and look after your father. A retired nurse, middle-aged and a very good cook.’

‘But it will all cost so much—I mean, even without your fees.’

‘Ah, you forget, I shall deduct an agreed sum from your salary while you are looking after my sister.’ He smiled suddenly. ‘Trust me, Emily, I’m not offering you charity! You will pay for it—probably more than you bargain for—my sister won’t be easy. There is still time for you to change your mind.’

She shook her head. ‘I shan’t do that. You see, it’s something I’ve wanted so badly for a long time—to have my father back on his feet again. I’ll do my best with your sister, really I will.’

‘I know that. Shall we tell your father the plans? He will probably have plans of his own to work out.’

‘Yes, all right. Do you want to leave as soon as possible?’

‘Well, I was rather hoping that I might share your supper.’ He contrived to sound both hungry and lonely, ‘I’ll talk to your father while you cook.’

A couple of hours later, sitting beside Mr van Tecqx, being driven back to Pearson’s, Emily did her best to gather her scattered wits together into some sort of order. It all sounded so easy when he talked about it, but she saw snags at every turn. ‘Do I have to go to the office?’ she asked suddenly.

‘Eventually, but I will see the Senior Nursing Officer tomorrow morning; she will send for you, I dare say. You would like to stay till your father is home again, wouldn’t you? I can arrange for you to leave in about three weeks’ time, you will be able to see him settled with Mrs Philips. Don’t worry about getting to Holland; I will deal with that and then let you know.’ Emily stirred restlessly and he added quietly, ‘Just take one thing at a time, Emily.’

When they reached her digs, he got out of the car, took her overnight bag from her, opened the front door and went in with her. In the narrow hall with Mrs Winter’s door open a crack so that she could hear every word, Emily said hastily, ‘Thank you for the lift, Mr van Tecqx.’

‘I’m coming up, just to see you safely in.’ He had raised his voice deliberately, ‘You can’t manage Podge and your bag.’

He stood beside her in her room, taking in its shabbiness and not saying a word. But when he turned to go he paused and dropped a kiss on her cheek. She uttered a surprised goodnight to an empty room.