The Moon for Lavinia. Betty Neels
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Название: The Moon for Lavinia
Автор: Betty Neels
Издательство: HarperCollins
Жанр: Короткие любовные романы
Серия: Mills & Boon M&B
isbn: 9781408982327
isbn:
She took another sip of sherry. ‘I haven’t a family—at least, only a sister. She’s fifteen, almost sixteen, and lives with an aunt. She hasn’t been happy with her and when I saw this job advertised I thought I’d try for it—I shall be able to live out, you see, and Peta will be able to come here and live with me. I couldn’t do that in England—not in London at any rate, because flats there are very expensive and nurses don’t earn an awful lot.’
She finished the sherry. It had loosened her tongue; she hadn’t told anyone her plans, and here she was pouring out her heart to a stranger—almost a stranger, then, though he had never seemed to be that, rather someone whom she had known for a very long time.
‘You are prepared to take that responsibility? You should marry.’ There was the faintest question in his voice.
‘Well, that would be awfully convenient, but no one’s asked me, and anyway I can’t imagine anyone wanting to make a home for Peta as well as me.’
She couldn’t see his eyes very well; the heavy lids almost covered them, probably he was half asleep with boredom. ‘I think you may be wrong there,’ he said quietly, and then: ‘And what do you think of our hospital?’
It was easy after that; he led her from one topic to the next while they ate the smoked eel and then the chicken, washed down with the wine which had been the subject of such serious discussion with the wine waiter. Lavinia had no idea what it was, but it tasted delicious, as did the chocolate mousse which followed the chicken. She ate and drank with the simple pleasure of someone who doesn’t go out very often, and when she had finished it, she said shyly: ‘That was quite super; I don’t go out a great deal—hardly ever, in fact. I thought you meant it when you said a quick snack.’
He laughed gently. ‘It’s quite some time since I took a girl out to supper. I haven’t enjoyed myself so much for a long while.’ He added deliberately: ‘We must do it again.’
‘Yes, well…that would be…’ She found herself short of both breath and words. ‘I expect I should be getting back.’
He lifted a finger to the hovering waiter. ‘Of course—a heavy day tomorrow, isn’t it?’
He spoke very little on their way back to the hospital, and Lavinia, trying to remember it all later, couldn’t be sure of what she had replied. He wished her good night at the hospital entrance and got back into his car and drove off without looking back. He was nice, she admitted to herself as she went to her room; the kind of man she felt at ease with—he would be a wonderful friend; perhaps, later on, he might be. She went to sleep thinking about him.
There was the usual chatter at breakfast and several of her table companions asked her if she had had a good supper. Evidently someone had told them. Neeltje probably; she was a positive fount of information about everything and everyone. She informed everyone now: ‘The Prof’s going to a conference in Vienna; he won’t be here for a few days, for I heard him telling Doctor van Teyl about it. We shall have that grumpy old van Vorst snapping our heads off if we have to go to the Path. Lab.’ She smiled at Lavinia. ‘And he is not likely to ask you to go out with him.’
Everyone laughed and Lavinia laughed too, although in fact she felt quite gloomy. Somehow she had imagined that she would see Professor ter Bavinck again that morning, and the knowledge that she wouldn’t seemed to have taken a good deal of the sparkle out of the day.
She settled down during the next few days into her new way of life, writing to Peta every day or so, studying her Dutch lessons hard so that she might wring a reluctant word of praise from Juffrouw de Waal, and when she was on duty, working very hard indeed. She had scrubbed for several cases by now and had managed very well, refusing to allow herself to be distracted or worried by the steady flow of Dutch conversation which went on between the surgeons as they worked, and after all, the instruments were the same, the technique was almost the same, even if they were called by different names. She coped with whatever came her way with her usual unhurried calm.
Only that calm was a little shattered one morning. They were doing a gastro-entreostomy, when the surgeon cast doubts on his findings and sent someone to telephone the Path. Lab. A minute or two later Professor ter Bavinck came in, exchanged a few words with his colleagues, collected the offending piece of tissue which was the cause of the doubt, cast a lightning look at Lavinia, standing behind her trolleys, and went away again.
So he was back. She counted a fresh batch of swabs, feeling the tide of pleasure the sight of him had engendered inside her. The day had suddenly become splendid and full of exciting possibilities. She only just stopped herself in time from bursting into song.
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