Dearest Mary Jane. Betty Neels

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СКАЧАТЬ nine o‘clock until five o’clock. The good weather wouldn’t last and business was slack during the winter months. However, she liked the Misses Potter.

      ‘Three o’clock,’ she said. ‘That means leaving here some time after two o‘clock, doesn’t it? Yes, of course I’ll go and see Miss Mabel safely settled in.’

      The ladies looked so relieved that she refilled their cups and didn’t charge them for it. ‘I hope,’ commented Miss Emily, ‘that Didums will be well enough for me to leave her so that I may visit Mabel. I do not know how long she will be in the hospital.’

      ‘I’ll try and find out for you.’ The tea-room door opened and four people came in and she left them to their coffee while she attended to her new customers: two elderly couples who ate a gratifying number of scones and ordered a pot of coffee. Mary Jane took it as a sign that obliging the Misses Potter when she really hadn’t wanted to would be rewarded by more customers than usual and more money in the till.

      Indeed, it seemed that that was the case; she was kept nicely busy for the next few days so that she turned the ‘Open’ notice to ‘Closed’ with reluctance. It was another lovely day, and more people than usual had come in for coffee and if today was anything like yesterday she could have filled the little tea-room for most of the afternoon...

      Miss Mabel wore an air of stunned resignation, getting into the taxi without needing to be coaxed, and Mary Jane’s warm heart was wrung by the unhappiness on her companion’s face. She strove to find cheerful topics of conversation, chattering away in a manner most unusual for her so that by the time they reached the hospital her tongue was cleaving to the roof of her mouth. At least there was no delay; they were taken at once to the ward and Miss Potter was invited to undress and get into bed while Mary Jane recited necessary information to the ward clerk, a jolly, friendly woman who gave her a leaflet about visiting and telephoning and information as to where the canteen was. ‘Sister will be coming along in a minute; you might like a word with her.’

      Mary Jane went back to Miss Potter’s cubicle and found that lady was lying in bed, looking pale although she mustered a smile.

      ‘Sister’s coming to see you in a minute,’ said Mary Jane. ‘I’ll take your clothes back with me, shall I, and bring them again when you’re getting up?’ She cocked an ear at the sound of feet coming down the ward. ‘Here’s Sister.’

      It was Sir Thomas Latimer as well, in a long white coat, his hands in his trouser pockets. He wished Miss Potter a cheerful good afternoon, gave Mary Jane a cool stare and addressed himself to his patient.

      He had a lovely bedside manner, Mary Jane reflected, soothing and friendly and yet conveying the firm impression that whatever he said or did would be right. Mary Jane watched Miss Potter relax, even smile a little, and edged towards the curtains; if he was going to examine his patient he wouldn’t want her there.

      ‘Stay,’ he told her without turning his head.

      She very much wanted to say ‘I shan’t,’ but Miss Potter’s precarious calm must not be disturbed. She gave the back of his head a look to pierce his skull and stayed where she was.

      She had had a busy day and she was a little tired. She eased herself from one foot to the other and wished she could be like Sister, standing on the other side of the bed. A handsome woman, still young and obviously highly efficient. She and Sir Thomas exchanged brief remarks from time to time, none of which made sense to her, not that they were meant to. She stifled a yawn, smiled at Miss Potter and eased a foot out of a shoe.

      Sister might be efficient, she was kind too; Miss Potter was getting more and more cheerful by the minute, and when Sir Thomas finally finished and sat down on her side of the bed she smiled, properly this time, and took the hand he offered her, listening to his reassuring voice. It was when he said, ‘Now I think we might let Miss...?’ that he turned to look at Mary Jane.

      ‘Seymour,’ she told him frostily, cramming her foot back into its shoe.

      His eyes went from her face to her feet, his face expressionless.

      ‘Miss Potter may be visited the day after tomorrow. Her sister is free to telephone whenever she wishes to. I shall operate tomorrow morning at eight o’clock. Miss Potter should be back in her bed well before noon.’ He added, ‘You are on the telephone?’

      ‘Me? No. We use the post office and Miss Kemble at the rectory will take a message. Everyone knows the Misses Potter. I’ve given the ward clerk several numbers she can ring. But someone will phone at noon tomorrow.’

      He nodded, smiled very kindly at his patient and went away with Sister as a young nurse took their place. The promise of a cup of tea made Mary Jane’s departure easier. She kissed the elderly cheek. ‘We’ll all be in to see you,’ she promised, and took herself off to find the taxi and its patient driver.

      By the time they were back in the village and she had explained everything to Miss Emily it was far too late to open the tea-room. She made herself a pot of tea, fed Brimble, and padded around in her stockinged feet getting everything ready for the batch of scones she still had to make ready for the next day. While she did it she thought about Sir Thomas.

      The operation was a success; the entire village knew about it and, since they foregathered in Mary Jane’s tea-room to discuss it, she was kept busy with pots of tea and coffee. Miss Kemble, being the rector’s sister, offered to drive to the hospital on the following day. ‘The car will take four—you will come of course, Miss Emily, and Mrs Stokes, how fortunate that she is back—and of course my brother.’

      Miss Emily put down her cup. ‘It would be nice if Mary Jane could come too....’

      ‘Another day,’ said Miss Kemble bossily. ‘Besides, who is to look after Didums? You know she is good with Mary Jane.’

      So it was agreed and the next day, encouraged by Sister’s report that Miss Mabel had had a good night, they set off. Mary Jane watched them go holding a peevish Didums under one arm. She took the dog up to the sitting-room presently and closed the door, thankful that Brimble was taking a nap on her bed and hadn’t noticed anything. She would have liked to have visited Miss Mabel and now she would have to wait until she could find someone who would give her a lift into Cheltenham.

      As it turned out, she didn’t have to wait long; Mrs Fellowes popped in for a cup of tea and wanted to know why Mary Jane hadn’t gone with the others. ‘That’s too bad,’ she declared, ‘but not to worry. I’m driving the doctor to Cheltenham on Sunday—about three o’clock, we’ll give you a lift in, only we shan’t be coming back. Do you suppose you can get back here? There’s a bus leaves Cheltenham for Stratford-upon-Avon, so you could get to Broadway...’ She frowned. ‘It’s a long way round, but I’m sure there’s an evening bus to Stow-on-the-Wold from there.’

      Mary Jane said recklessly, ‘Thank you very much, I’d like a lift. I’m sure I can get a bus home. I’ll have a look at the timetable in the post office.’

      It was going to be an awkward, roundabout journey home and it would depend on her getting on to the bus in Cheltenham. She would have to keep a sharp eye on the time; the bus depot was some way from the hospital. All the same she would go. She wrote a postcard telling Miss Mabel that she would see her on Sunday afternoon and put it in the letterbox before she could have second, more prudent thoughts.

      Miss Emily, coming to collect Didums, had a great deal to say. Her sister was doing well, Sister had said, and she was to get out of bed on the following day. ‘Modern surgery,’ observed Miss Potter with a shake СКАЧАТЬ