Once For All Time. Betty Neels

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СКАЧАТЬ police, wanting to know who will take care of things,’ he told her, and handed her a cup and saucer. ‘Drink up, there’s a good girl.’ He sat down near her, smiled at Rosie and started on his own tea. ‘This has to be talked about,’ he said gently, ‘and you will feel better when you do. Have you a brother, uncle or anyone else in the family who can deal with the formalities?’And at Clotilde’s blank look: ‘Someone who can go over to France, identify your parents and arrange for them to be brought back here?’

      Clotilde said in a tear-sodden voice: ‘I’ve an older sister; she’s married and lives in Canada and she’s expecting another baby in two weeks’ time. I’ve no uncles or cousins, and my god-father died last year.’

      ‘What about young Johnson? I imagine the authorities would allow him to cope with the necessary arrangements.’

      She remembered Bruce’s voice—sympathetic but anxious not to be involved in anything which might spoil his chances with Sir Oswald. ‘He’s—he’s got his job, I don’t suppose he could get leave. Besides, he’s assisting Sir Oswald all next week while the Senior Registrar’s away.’

      ‘Ah yes,’ Dr Thackery’s voice was dry, ‘that makes it impossible for him to get away, doesn’t it? I wonder if I would do. I didn’t know your parents, but I imagine that your solicitor or even the local parson would come with me. I could make all the arrangements necessary for their return while you attend to matters at this end.’

      He didn’t wait for her to answer but went on in the same matter-of-fact voice: ‘Now, there are several people to inform, aren’t there? Your solicitor, the parson, your sister—perhaps it would be best to tell her husband and he could decide if she is to be told? I’ll arrange for you to have leave from the hospital, and if you feel you can, write to Sally Wood and give her any instructions which might help her.’

      He looked across the room at Rosie. ‘I’m sorry I shall have to leave you quite soon. Eat something, the pair of you, and then lie down for an hour or so. Before I go I’ll do some phoning, if I may. I’ll need some phone numbers.’

      It was Clotilde who got up and fetched the telephone book for him. She felt curiously empty and tired. The shock was beginning to wear off now and she was aware of the sharp edge of pain. She said: ‘Do you have to go?’

      ‘Yes, but I shall be back this evening. Can you put me up for the night? I’ll be fairly late, I’m afraid.’

      Rosie said eagerly: ‘You’ll want your supper, doctor. I’ll see and cook you something.’

      ‘That would be kind, but don’t stay up for me. Something kept hot on the stove will suit me very well.’ His blue eyes studied Clotilde from under their lids. ‘If I might suggest that you both go to bed? I expect you leave the key under the mat?’

      Clotilde nodded. ‘Everyone does. But you don’t need to come back, really you don’t. You’ve been so kind and helpful—you’ve done too much already. We’ll be quite all right.’

      He only smiled gently, got up and went away to the telephone. Presently he came back. ‘Your vicar will be round very shortly and your solicitor will be down to see you in the morning. Remember what I said and have a rest after lunch.’ He bent and kissed Rosie’s cheek, and at the door turned to kiss Clotilde too. ‘Look after each other,’ he said gravely. ‘I’ll see you, and I can let myself out.’

      ‘What a nice gentleman,’ said Rosie, ‘doing all that for us too—and him no more than someone at the hospital. What happened to Mr Johnson?’

      ‘He couldn’t get away.’ Clotilde busied herself putting the cups and saucers back on the tray. ‘Rosie, I can’t believe it, but we’ve got to go on as usual, haven’t we? I’ll go and make up a bed for Dr Thackery while you do something for lunch, I’m not hungry and I don’t suppose you are either, but he said we must have something.’

      Rosie was crying again, and she went and put her arms round the dear soul. ‘Rosie, don’t, please don’t! The next few days are going to be awful and we’ve got to get through them somehow.’ She kissed her and Rosie said between sobs:

      ‘He kissed me too—so natural like, just as though he was a friend and really minded.’

      ‘I think he does mind. He’s always kind to his patients, and calm and quiet.’ Clotilde added thoughtfully: ‘But I don’t know what he’s really like.’

      She made herself busy until the vicar came—an old man, and very shaken by the news. She gave him a glass of sherry because he looked as though he needed it, then poured one for Rosie and another for herself.

      ‘Your friend has everything in hand,’ observed the vicar. ‘You are most fortunate to have someone so helpful at such a sad time.’ He added inevitably: ‘Is Mr Johnson not with you?’

      ‘He’s unable to leave the hospital.’ Clotilde was filled with fresh unhappiness. The one person who could have consoled her wasn’t there. And he couldn’t help it, she reminded herself—an important engagement with Sir Oswald just couldn’t be missed; his future depended upon pleasing the great man. It wasn’t as if Bruce had known her parents well. They had met on countless occasions, but in all fairness there was only a mild affection between them. A tiny voice reminded her that Dr Thackery hadn’t known them at all, yet he was prepared to go to France for her.

      She listened politely to the vicar making tentative arrangements and offering help. ‘The village will be shocked,’ he told her. ‘Your parents were well liked. You will stay on here, of course? We would not like to see you go.’

      ‘I hadn’t thought about it,’ said Clotilde, ‘but I expect Rosie and I will go on living here, at least until I marry. We’ll have to think about that later.’

      He went away presently and she and Rosie had their lunch, sitting at the kitchen table, not talking much and not eating much either. They washed up together and then, obedient to the Doctor’s instructions, went and lay down, and surprisingly, slept.

      They had tea, then Rosie busied herself making soup to keep hot on the stove and a caramel custard to follow it. ‘Because I’ll be bound he’ll be hungry when he gets here.’ She asked hesitantly: ‘When will he go to France, Miss Tilly?’

      ‘I don’t know, he’ll tell us, though.’ Clotilde went to answer the phone yet again; the news had got around and people were ringing up all the time.

      They had their supper quite early and then because they couldn’t bear to talk anymore, said goodnight and went to their rooms. Clotilde didn’t undress at once but sat at her window, looking out on to the dark evening, not even thinking. It was much later when she got to her feet, cold now, and went to run a bath. She could hear Rosie snoring and uttered a thankful sigh; the poor dear had had a shock and she must be worn out with grief. She would have to go to bed herself, she supposed, and she took as long as possible undressing and bathing, brushing her long hair for ten minutes or more before at last getting into bed. It surprised her to see that it was already almost eleven o’clock. She was still making up her mind to put out the light when she heard the Bentley surge almost silently up to the front door. She had been dreading the moment when she must lie in the dark and try and sleep, now she seized on the chance to put that moment off till later. She got up, put on a dressing gown and slippers, and went silently downstairs.

      Dr Thackery was in the kitchen, a saucepan lid in one hand, eyeing the soup. He looked up as she went in, said ‘Hullo’ in an unsurprised voice and then: ‘How СКАЧАТЬ