A Winter Love Story. Бетти Нилс

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      ‘It’s urgent. Do you know where I can get him?’ She added, so as to make things clear, ‘I’m not a friend or anything. My great-uncle is a patient of Mr Tait-Bullen’s and he wants to see him. He’s very ill.’

      ‘In that case, miss, I will give you the number of his consulting rooms.’

      She thanked him and dialled again, and this time Mrs Truelove, Mr Tait-Bullen’s receptionist, answered.

      ‘Colonel Ramsay? You are his niece? Mr Tait-Bullen has mentioned him. He’s with a patient at the moment. Ring off, my dear; I’ll call you the moment he’s free.’

      Claudia waited, wondering if Mr Tait-Bullen would have time to visit Great-Uncle William or even to phone him. She supposed that he was a very busy man; he could hardly be blamed if he hadn’t the time to leave London and his patients to obey the whim of an old man who had refused his services. Then the phone rang, and she picked it up.

      ‘Yes,’ said a voice in her ear. ‘Tait-Bullen speaking.’

      This was no time for polite chit-chat. ‘Great-Uncle William wants to see you. He says he’s going to die in a day or two. He told me to phone you, so I am, because he asked me to, but you don’t have to.’

      She wasn’t sure if she had made herself clear, but apparently she had. Mr Tait-Bullen disentangled the muddle with a twitching lip and answered her with exactly the right amount of impersonal friendliness.

      ‘It is very possible that your great-uncle is quite right. I’m free this evening; I will be with you at about seven o’clock.’

      He heard her relieved sigh.

      ‘Thank you very much. I’m sorry if I’ve disturbed your work.’

      ‘I’m glad you phoned me.’

      She could hear the faint impatience in his voice. ‘Goodbye, then.’ She rang off smartly, and then wondered if she’d been rather too abrupt.

      He arrived punctually, unfussed and unhurried. No one looking at his immaculate person would have guessed that he had been up since six o’clock, had missed his lunch and stopped only for the tea and bun his faithful Mrs Truelove had pressed upon him. Dr Willis was waiting for him, and they spent a few minutes talking together before they went up to the Colonel’s room. Dr Willis came down presently. ‘They’re discussing the merits of pyrenaicum aureum as opposed to tenuifolium pumilum…’

      Mrs Ramsay looked puzzled. ‘Is that some new symptom? It sounds alarming. Poor Uncle William.’

      ‘Lilies,’ said Claudia. ‘Two varieties of lily, Mother.’

      Dr Willis patted her mother’s arm. ‘Don’t alarm yourself, my dear. Your uncle is enjoying his little chat. It was good of Mr Tait-Bullen to come.’

      ‘But he’s not doing anything to help Uncle…’

      But that was exactly what he was doing, reflected Claudia, although she didn’t say so. Instead she asked, ‘Do you suppose he will stay for supper? Mrs Pratt can grill a couple more chops.’

      But when he joined them presently, he declined Mrs Ramsay’s offer of supper, saying that he must return to London.

      ‘I hope we haven’t spoilt your evening for you—caused you to cancel a date?’

      Claudia noticed that he didn’t answer that, merely thanked her mother for her invitation. ‘If I might have a word with Dr Willis?’

      They left the two men, returning when they heard them in the hall.

      Mrs. Ramsay shook hands. ‘We’re so grateful to you. Uncle did so wish to see you again—although I’m sure you are a very busy man.’

      He said gravely, ‘The Colonel is going to die very soon now, Mrs Ramsay; he is content, and in no pain, and in Dr Willis’s good hands.’

      He turned to Claudia. ‘I was bidden to tell you to read the editorial in The Times before he has his supper.’ His hand was firm and cool and comforting. ‘He’s fond of you, you know.’

      He left then, getting into his car and driving back to his house to eat the meal Cork had ready for him and then go to his study and concentrate on the notes of the patients upon whom he would be operating in the morning. Before that, he paused to think about the Colonel. A courageous old man hidden behind that crusty manner. He hoped that he would die quietly in his sleep.

      Great-Uncle William died while Claudia was still reading the editorial. So quietly and peacefully that it wasn’t until she had finished it that she realised.

      She said softly, ‘You had a happy talk about lilies, didn’t you, Uncle William? I’m glad he came.’

      She bent to kiss the craggy old face and went downstairs to tell her mother.

      CHAPTER TWO

      THE Colonel had been respected in the village; he had had no use for a social life or mere acquaintances, although he had lifelong friends.

      Claudia had very little time to grieve. Her mother saw the callers when they came, arranged things with the undertaker and planned the flowers and the gathering of friends and family after the funeral, but it was left to Claudia to carry out her wishes, answer the telephone and make a tidy pile of the letters which would have to be answered later.

      Dr Willis was a tower of strength, of course, but he was more concerned with her mother than anything else, and Mrs Ramsay leaned on him heavily for comfort and support. She needed both when, on the day before the funeral, the cousin who was to inherit the house arrived.

      He was a middle-aged man, with austere good looks and cold eyes. He treated them with cool courtesy, expressed a token regret at the death of the Colonel and went away to see the colonel’s solicitor. When he returned he requested that Mrs Ramsay and Claudia should join him in the morning room.

      He stood with his back to the fire and begged them to sit down. Already master of the house, thought Claudia, and wondered what was coming.

      He spoke loudly, as though he thought that they were deaf. ‘Everything seems to be in order. The will is not yet read, of course, but I gather that there are no surprises in it. I must return to York after the funeral, but I intend to return within two or three days. Monica—my wife—will accompany me and we will take up residence then. My house there is already on the market. You will, of course, wish to leave here as soon as possible.’

      Claudia heard her mother’s quick breath. ‘Are you interested as to where we are going?’

      ‘It is hardly my concern.’ He eyed Claudia coldly. ‘You must have been aware for some time that the house would become my property and have some plans of your own.’

      ‘Well,’ said Claudia slowly, ‘whatever plans we may have had didn’t include being thrown out lock, stock and barrel at a moment’s notice.’ When he started to speak, she added, ‘No, let me finish. Let us know when you and your wife will arrive and we will be gone in good time. What about Tombs and Mrs Pratt and Jennie? I understand that they have been remembered in Uncle William’s will.’

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