An Independent Woman. Betty Neels

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      Ruth had met Thomas when she had gone to the hospital to collect some urgent path. lab. Results for Dr Goodman, and soon they would marry. Monica, although she liked children, had never been quite sure that she wanted to stay at home, especially in such alien surroundings, but then George had come one day to tell the children Bible stories and all ideas of going out into the glamorous world to find a job more to her liking had faded away. They would have to wait to marry, of course, until George had a parish. In the meantime she was happy.

      Which left Julia, twenty-four years old, bursting with life and energy. Because she had a happy nature she didn’t allow herself to dwell on what might have been, but wrote her sentimental little verses, kept the house clean and tidy and, being clever with her needle, dressed herself in a style which, while not being the height of fashion, was a passable imitation.

      It was fortunate, she supposed, that Oscar, her admirer—for he was only that at the moment, although he promised to be rather more when it was convenient for him to be so—had absolutely no taste in clothes. That horrible professor might sneer in a well-mannered way at the curtain, but Oscar wouldn’t suspect. Indeed, even if he did, he would probably approve, for he was of a frugal nature when it came to spending money. He was persistent too. She had tried, over and over again, to shake him off, to suggest that she would make him a most unsuitable wife, but he refused to be shaken and, despite the countless excuses she had given, she was committed to attend the annual dance given by the greetings card firm.

      Rightly, Ruth and Monica had urged her to go and enjoy herself. But neither of them had met Oscar, and she had given way because she knew that they both felt unhappy at the idea of her being left alone when they married. When she allowed herself to think about it she felt unhappy about that too.

      She put away her sewing and started on the household chores, and found herself thinking about the Professor. He seemed a tiresome man, and she suspected that it would be hard to get the better of him. Probably he was horrid to his patients.

      Professor van der Maes, contrary to Julia’s idea, was treating the endless stream of patients attending his clinic with kindness and patience, his quiet voice reassuring, his smile encouraging. He was a tired man, for he worked too hard, but no patient had ever found him uncaring. But that was a side which he seldom showed to anyone else. The nursing staff who worked for him quickly learnt that he would stand no nonsense, that only their best efforts would suit him, and as for his students—he represented the goal they hoped to obtain one day. A good word from him was worth a dozen from anyone else, just as a quiet reprimand sent them into instant dejection. They called him the old man behind his back, and fiercely defended any criticism anyone was foolish enough to utter.

      The Professor remained unmoved by other people’s opinion of him, good or bad. He was an excellent surgeon and he loved his work, and he had friends who would be his for life, but he had no use for casual acquaintances. He had a social life when his work permitted, and was much sought after as a dinner party guest. Since he was unmarried, he could have taken his pick of any of the women he met. But, although he was a pleasant companion, he showed no interest in any of them. Somewhere in the world, he supposed, there was the woman he would fall in love with and want for his wife, but he was no longer young and he would probably end his days as a crusty old bachelor.

      It wasn’t until he was driving back to London a few days later that he thought about the three Gracey sisters. Ruth would make Thomas a good wife: a beautiful girl with her shy smile and gentle voice. He thought only fleetingly of Julia. Pretty, he supposed, but sharp-tongued, and she made no effort to be pleasant. She was the last person he imagined would spend her days writing sentimental verses for greetings cards, and what woman in her senses wore dresses made from curtains? He laughed, and forgot her.

      The dance was ten days later, and, since the firm had had a good year, it was to be held at one of the more prestigious hotels. There was to be a buffet supper before everyone went to the hotel ballroom, and Ruth and Monica, anxious that Julia should enjoy herself, lent slippers and an old but still magnificent shawl which had belonged to their mother. They sent her there in a taxi— an unnecessary expense, Julia protested; the journey there would have been a lengthy one by bus but far cheaper. However, they insisted, privately of the opinion that Oscar could have come and fetched her instead of meeting her there…

      The dress, despite its origin, was a success, simply made, but it fitted where it should, and unless anyone had actually seen the curtain, hanging in the spare bedroom, one would never have known…

      Julia walked out of the taxi feeling quite pleased with herself, straight into the Professor’s person.

      He set her tidily on her feet. ‘Well, well, Miss Julia Gracey. Unexpected and delightful.’ He looked around him. ‘You are alone?’

      She bade him good evening in a choked voice. ‘I am meeting someone in the hotel.’

      She glanced around, looking without much hope for Oscar. There was no sign of him, of course. He had said that he would be at the hotel entrance, waiting for her. She supposed that she would have to go inside and look for him. She was not easily daunted, but the hotel’s imposing entrance and the equally imposing appearance of the doorman daunted her now, and how and by what misfortune had the Professor got here? Surely he hadn’t anything to do with greetings cards?

      It seemed not. He said easily, ‘I’m meeting friends here. We may as well go in together.’ He paid the cabby and took her arm. ‘Your friend will be looking for you inside?’

      He was being kind, with a casual kindness it was impossible to resent. She sought frantically for something to say as the doorman opened the doors with a flourish and they joined the people in the foyer.

      There was no sign of Oscar. She had been a fool to accept his invitation; she didn’t even like him much.

      ‘Let me have your shawl,’ said the Professor. ‘I’ll let the girl have it.’ And he had taken it from her and left her for a moment, returning with a ticket which he tucked into the little handbag hanging from her wrist.

      She found her tongue then, ‘Thank you. I’ll—I’ll wait here. Oscar will find me…’

      ‘Oscar?’ She mistrusted his casual voice. ‘Ah, yes, of course. And if I’m not mistaken this must be he…’

      She should have been glad to see him, and she might well have been if he had expressed regret at not meeting her promptly. But all he did was thump her on the shoulder and say heartily, ‘Sorry old lady. I got held up; so many people wanted to have a chat.’

      He looked her up and down. ‘Got yourself a new dress for the occasion? Not bad, not bad at all…’

      His glance fell upon the Professor, who had made no attempt to go away.

      ‘Do I know you?’

      Julia, aware of the Professor’s eyes fixed on the curtain, said tartly, ‘No, Oscar, you don’t. This is Professor van der Maes. He knows Ruth’s fiancé.’

      Oscar looked uneasy under the Professor’s cool gaze. ‘Nice to meet you. Come along, Julia, I’ll find you somewhere to sit; I’ve one or two important clients to talk to, but we’ll be able to dance presently.’

      He nodded in a condescending manner at the Professor, who took no notice but said pleasantly to Julia, ‘I do hope you have a happy evening,’ and, as Oscar turned away rudely to speak to a passing couple, ‘but I doubt it.’ He looked amused. ‘I can’t say that I agree with Oscar about your dress, but СКАЧАТЬ