Not Once But Twice

The wine had flushed her cheeks a little, but otherwise she looked as well groomed as when she had left home that morning. She poked at her hair, put on more lipstick and rejoined Adam.

Dr Duert ter Brandt was standing on the edge of the pavement outside, his back to the restaurant. It was a very large back and very straight in its beautifully tailored jacket. He must have had eyes at the back of his head, for he turned round before they reached him, wished her a friendly good afternoon, said something in a soft voice to Adam and lifted his hand at a passing taxi. Once more barely given time to say more than goodbye to Adam, Christina found herself sitting back beside Dr ter Brandt.

‘I thought that we might walk in Green Park,’ his voice was quiet and slow after Adam’s quick, accented English. ‘You understand that there are a number of questions I must ask you? And if we are both satisfied I shall require references.’

She said yes a little breathlessly; funny to think that only a few days ago she had been contemplating a dull future in a bedsitter. But she hadn’t got the job yet.

It was pleasant in the park; they strolled through its comparative peace while the doctor asked questions. A great many questions, thought Christina, answering them in her sensible manner, giving him facts and taking care not to boast or pretend about anything.

‘And surgery?’ he wanted to know.

‘Not for the last two years, I’m afraid. I had the Women’s Surgical Ward for two years before I got my present post, and before that I was in Casualty and the Accident Room, a year as Second Sister and previous to that about a year as a staff nurse.’

‘You like accident work?’

‘Yes, very much. I should have liked to have stayed on there, but I was advised that I should get all-round experience. I haven’t been at St Athud’s all the time, you know. I came to London when my parents died and took the job I have got now. Before then I was living near Yeovil. I worked at the hospital there, but I trained at Bart’s.’

They had stopped to watch an old man feeding the birds and presently Dr ter Brandt said: ‘The post I have to offer you is that of Third Sister in the Accident Department at the Theofilus Hospital. We operate three shifts in the twenty-four hours, and you would be expected to work each shift in turn. You would have two days off each week, six weeks’ holiday in the year and for the first few months at least, attend classes in Dutch. You may live in the hospital if you wish or rent rooms or a flat close by.’ He mentioned a salary which, changed into English money, seemed generous.

‘But perhaps the cost of living is higher?’ asked Christina, sensibly.

‘About the same, I think.’

She said composedly: ‘I may apply for the post?’

‘Yes. I have an application form with me, which we will fill in presently. The post is vacant now, but of course you will have to resign—a month, I take it?’

The old man had gone and so had the birds. A cool wind rustled the trees around them and a few leaves fluttered on to the grass. Christina said in her sensible way: ‘I have more than two weeks’ holiday due to me, which means that I can leave in about ten days’ time.’

‘That would suit us very well.’ He paused and added thoughtfully: ‘But of course you would like to stay here until your brother’s marriage?’

‘No.’ Her voice was level and quiet. ‘That doesn’t matter. I should explain that my brother and I are very fond of each other and we get on very well. I’m delighted that he’s marrying, but his fiancée and I—well, we don’t get on very well. I think it might be easier for all of us if I’m not at the wedding.’ She added slowly, ‘We haven’t quarrelled or anything like that, but George Henry feels a bit mean because I’m having to find somewhere else to live and it would be a good thing if I’m not there to remind him…’

The doctor’s smile was kind. ‘I’m sorry, but thank you for telling me; I’m sure it’s a sensible solution. These unfortunate occasions do arise, but I’ve found that time does much to improve them.’

‘That’s what I thought. By the time I get back to England it will be forgotten.’ They had been strolling along, but now she stopped. ‘I’ve taken up your afternoon, Dr ter Brandt. If there’s nothing more I need to know, I’ll say goodbye. I’m sure I can manage the form and I’ll get the references and send them on to you.’

For answer he took her arm. ‘A cup of tea, I think, and we can fill in the form at the same time.’

He walked her back across the park and into Piccadilly, crossed the street and ushered her through the splendid entrance of the Ritz. ‘Tea here?’ she asked uncertainly.

‘It’s the nicest place I know of for tea,’ he told her as they were led to a table by the window.

Christina had gone past the hotel many times since she had been in London, but never been inside. It was splendid and elegant and everything she had imagined it would be, and she was glad that she was wearing the grey suit; there wasn’t a pair of denims in sight, the atmosphere was peaceful and restful, and having taken it all in she said forthrightly: ‘This is delightful. I’ve often wondered what it was like inside, and now I know.’

And when the tea came she poured it with a dignified self-assurance which gave the lie to Adam’s theory that she might feel ill at ease in such plushy surroundings. The doctor, plying her with wafer-thin cucumber sandwiches, little iced cakes and tiny meringues, looked at her with approval. She was no fool, this rather plain girl with the lovely eyes; she had a delightful voice and nice manners and a sensible head on her shoulders. And he liked the way she dressed too. She had a good figure and small, well kept hands. After a time, he mused, one forgot her lack of looks and probably, given enough incentive, she could improve on those.

He had an uneasy feeling that Adam was going to provide that incentive, and although, as he had said before, she seemed capable of looking after herself, she was too honest and nice a girl to be hurt. Of course, Adam might be serious about her; she was so very different from the usual kind of girl he fell in love with, it might be possible. Time would tell.

He asked casually: ‘Are you meeting Adam this evening, Christina?’

She shook her head. ‘No, he’s got a lecture and he had to catch up on something he missed—and tomorrow he has a study day at Birmingham.’

The doctor sat back, his eyes on her face. ‘I have to stay in London until tomorrow evening. Perhaps we might have lunch together, then if there are any snags or problems we can sort them out.’

‘Thank you, I should like that.’ Her gaze met his and she smiled. ‘Should I fill in that form?’

They did it together, laughing a little while Christina tried to remember dates and how tall she was and the exact date upon which she had started her training. It was finished at last and she was surprised to find that they had been sitting over their tea for more than an hour. And she had enjoyed herself; her companion had turned out to be nicer than she had expected; rather reserved, perhaps, but he must be a good deal older than Adam. He would be comfortably married, of course; she had taken that for granted. She would have like to have asked him if he had any children, but she had already formed the impression that his private life was very much his own business.

They took a taxi back to George Henry’s house after that, but the doctor, politely opening the door for her, refused her invitation to come in, pleading an evening engagement and wishing her a pleasantly impersonal goodbye as he went. Christina stood in the hall, listening to the coughs and murmurs coming from the waiting room, already stuffed with the evening surgery patients. She felt as though a door, briefly opened on to another world, had been gently but inexorably closed again.

‘It’s not my world anyway,’ she reminded herself sensibly, and went upstairs to change the grey suit for a skirt and jumper and then went along to the kitchen to see about supper.

Hilary came that evening and displayed an unflattering amazement that anyone should want to take Christina to the Ritz for tea. She said, her rather prominent blue eyes narrowed: ‘Well, really, whatever next? Was he trying to impress you?’

Christina considered the question. ‘No—he’s not that kind of man. I think it was because the Ritz was close by and it was tea time and I had to fill in a form. We had to have a table, you see.’

Hilary gave her a suspicious glance, but Christina appeared to be serious, so she gave a reluctant nod. ‘Dead set on this job, aren’t you? Supposing you hate it when you’re there?’

Christina allowed herself a silent giggle. Hilary’s face showed very plainly that she wished she hadn’t said that; supposing Christina said that she would return home and expect to live with her and George Henry until she found another job to suit her? She said gently: ‘Well, you know, Hilary, I’m a bit slow about making up my mind about places and people—other people know within seconds if they like something or someone, but not me.’ She remembered very clearly that she had known within a second that she liked Adam, but of course there was always the exception to every rule… ‘I shall enjoy the experience,’ she finished.

Hilary agreed with eager enthusiasm and hardly concealed her pleasure when Christina mentioned that it wasn’t likely that she would be at the wedding. George Henry, Christina decided, must be very in love not to notice, but that was a good thing. She was a firm believer in love, herself unloved.

‘You won’t come back,’ observed Hilary in a satisfied voice.

‘Probably not, and certainly not to London.’ Christina beamed at them both. ‘Have you decided what you would like for a present?’ she asked.

Dr ter Brandt came for her at noon the next day, keeping the taxi waiting outside while he chatted amiably with George Henry, who had just come in from an emergency call. Which gave Christina time to take another quick look at herself in the old-fashioned wardrobe mirror. She was wearing the suit again because it seemed suitable in the elegant company of the doctor, and she wondered where they were to lunch.

She hadn’t included Claridge’s in her guessing. She got out of the taxi and looked up at its solid imposing front, then she looked at the doctor.

‘Will I do for a place like this?’ she asked simply.

He looked her up and down very deliberately. ‘Very well indeed,’ he assured her, and she said matter-of-factly:

‘Oh, that’s all right, then. I shouldn’t like to let you down.’

They had a table by the window again, shown to it by the manager of the restaurant, who greeted the doctor with the smiling respect due to a regular visitor. There was a band playing softly somewhere and the restaurant was elegant and quiet. Christina sighed as she sat down.

‘This is very delightful,’ she observed, ‘and a bit exciting to me. I expect you come here a lot?’

‘From time to time. What would you like to drink?’ And when she hesitated: ‘A dry sherry would give us an appetite, if you’d care for that?’

‘Please.’ She added with disarming frankness: ‘I don’t know much about drinks.’

‘Then you’ll allow me to guide you.’ He took the menu he had been offered and glanced across at her, already studying hers.

‘I’m famished,’ he told her placidly. ‘I shall have a steak, but how about a starter? Avocado, perhaps?’ and when she agreed, relieved to have some guidance through the enormous selection of food, ‘If you like fish, I can recommend the salmon, or perhaps lobster?’

‘Salmon, please.’ She wasn’t absolutely sure what you did with a lobster. She sat back and looked around her and the doctor looked at her. She had self-possession, that was evident, and no pretence. He had expected her to tell him that she didn’t know what to do with a lobster and he was quite disappointed because she hadn’t. She wasn’t gauche, he decided, merely deprived of the usual opportunities most girls had of going out and picking up these useful pieces of information. He would warn Adam not to make the mistake of taking her to a second class restaurant again. She would be able to cope with Buckingham Palace if necessary because she had sense and natural good manners and an honesty which he found rather touching. He couldn’t think of any of his women friends, offhand, who would have stopped outside a restaurant in order to ask if they would do.

He elaborated upon the job she had applied for while they ate their way through the most delicious lunch she had ever tasted, and watching the light-as-air profiteroles being piled on to her plate, she remarked: ‘It all sounds quite splendid—but the thing is, I’m so taken up with this gorgeous food I don’t think I’m appreciating it as I should.’

The doctor gave a great booming laugh. ‘Then I shall have to send you a job description leaflet when I get back.’

Which reminded her to ask: ‘You’re going this evening?’

‘Yes, I must.’ He didn’t tell her that he had stayed another day so that he might take her out to lunch. He had been sorry for her, but he wasn’t any more. She was one of those calm, sensible girls who didn’t allow themselves to become flustered. Adam would try and charm her out of that calmness, but Duert doubted if he would succeed. He would make sure that he didn’t anyway; she was too nice a girl to have her heart broken by the carefree Adam. There were plenty of girls who could play his game and not get hurt. The doctor, whose own tastes ran to sophisticated women whose witty conversation kept him mildly amused and who were never surprised or excited about anything at all, glanced at Christina with puzzled eyes. There was absolutely nothing about this dab of a girl to interest him, so why had he taken her out to lunch? To save her from the disappointment of not seeing Adam, he supposed idly.

‘Adam will be back tomorrow,’ he told her, and watched her face light up. ‘He has only three more weeks here; you will be quite at home in den Haag by then.’

She poured their coffee with a steady hand while she contemplated her exciting future. ‘So I shall,’ she told him. ‘When will I know? I have to resign…’

‘Oh, do that tomorrow, will you?’ and at her look of surprise, ‘I’ve recommended you for the post and I’m the director of the hospital, so the job’s yours, Christina. Let me know when you can come and I’ll arrange to have you met. You’ll need a passport, of course; I’ll see about your work permit. Have you enough money for your fare or would you like an advance?’

‘I’ve enough, thank you.’

‘Good—well, we’ll see how you get on, shall we? If at the end of a month you’re not happy, let me know.’

‘And if I don’t suit?’ she prompted.

‘Then I shall let you know.’

She wouldn’t like that to happen. He seemed such an easygoing man, but she suspected that upon occasion he could be icy-tempered, venting his rage in a cold voice on whoever had been hapless enough to incur his displeasure. Christina hoped most sincerely that she would never be unlucky enough to do that, and anyway, she wouldn’t see much of him once she was there. She didn’t know much about hospital directors, but she hardly thought he would do anything else but administrative work.

There didn’t seem much more to say after that. She finished her coffee, invented a meeting with one of the Sisters from the hospital, wished him a pleasant journey back home, thanked him for her delightful lunch and assured him that she really had to go. She wasn’t surprised when he at once asked for the bill, paid it and ushered her out of the restaurant; indeed, she was a little worried as to whether she had lingered too long, which made her goodbyes rather brisk.

‘I’ll get you a taxi,’ offered the doctor, and when she said no, thank you, she would walk as it was close by, and he asked where, his eyes gleamed with amusement when she said wildly: ‘Oh, Piccadilly Circus,’ which wasn’t close by at all.

He stood on the pavement and watched her walk briskly to the corner and into Davies Street, on her way to the crowds and bustle of Oxford Street. He very much doubted if she was going to meet anyone.

Christina got on a bus when she reached Oxford Street and went home; it was mid-afternoon, George Henry was out on his afternoon visits and she had the house to herself. She sat down at the dining room table and made a list of all the things she had to do within the next few days, then she wrote a letter of resignation ready to hand in in the morning, made a cup of tea, washed her hair and then sat down again and allowed herself to indulge in daydreams just a little. Adam cropped up in all of them.

Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.

Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».

Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию на ЛитРес.

Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.