Matilda's Wedding. Бетти Нилс

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СКАЧАТЬ tucked a wisp of hair behind an ear. ‘Well, I won’t,’ she assured him. ‘Only the umbrellas dripping all over the floor are nasty and you can’t expect a toddler to perch on a loo, you know. And I thought a few flowers would cheer the place up a bit. A potted plant or two?’ she added hopefully.

      ‘If you have set your heart on that, by all means, but I must make it clear that I do not wish for a plant in my surgery.’

      She said warmly, ‘Oh, do they give you hay fever or something?’

      The doctor, self-assured and used to being treated with a certain amount of respect, found himself at a loss for a reply. Being in the habit of advising others as to their various illnesses, he hardly expected to hear an opinion passed as to his own health.

      When Matilda got back from the Wednesday morning clinic her mother had already left with Mrs Milton.

      ‘Most fortunate,’ her father observed as they drank their coffee together, ‘that your mother has the opportunity to enjoy a day out; she has so few pleasures.’

      ‘Well,’ said Matilda, ‘Mrs Milton is going to introduce Mother to her friends and I’m sure she will be asked to join in the social life around here. I suppose there is some…’

      ‘Oh, I believe so. Lady Truscott has a large circle of friends; your mother will enjoy meeting them.’ He added, ‘Perhaps there will be some young people for you, my dear.’

      She agreed cheerfully. She would have dearly liked to go dancing, play tennis, and even venture into amateur theatricals, but only if the doctor was there too, and somehow she couldn’t imagine him as an actor. Tennis, yes—he would be a good tennis player and a good dancer—a bit on the conservative side, perhaps. She allowed herself a few moments of daydreaming, waltzing around some magnificent ballroom in his arms. She would, of course, be exquisitely dressed and so very pretty that she was the object of all eyes… But only Dr Lovell’s eyes mattered.

      Not that he showed any signs of interest in her at the surgery; indeed, she had the strong feeling that as a person she just wasn’t there—a pair of hands, yes, and a voice for the telephone and someone to find old notes. He was engaged to be married, she reminded herself, and quite rightly didn’t notice any female other than his betrothed…

      Later in the day Mrs Paige came back from Taunton, bubbling over with the delights of her day.

      ‘A marvellous hairdresser, Matilda, worth every penny, and the shops are excellent. Of course I had no money but next time there are several things I simply must have.’ She gave a little laugh. ‘I’m to go with Mrs Milton to Lady Truscott’s—the next committee meeting for some charity or other—so I must smarten up a little. You wouldn’t want your mother to look shabby, would you?’

      Her father said, ‘My dear, I’m sure I can let you have a little extra. Matilda should have her own money to spend how she likes.’

      Matilda slipped out of the room. She had heard her father’s mild remonstrance often enough but it went unheeded. Once the outstanding bills had been paid she would go to Taunton herself and buy some new clothes, have her hair done, a manicure, new cosmetics… Dr Lovell hadn’t noticed her yet; perhaps he never would. He was going to marry, she reminded herself then, and remembered that Mrs Simpkins hadn’t liked his fiancée.

      Matilda, peeling potatoes, made up her mind to find out more about her.

      After morning surgery next day, since it was a fine day with a strong wind blowing, she filled the washing machine and went into the garden and began to sweep up the leaves lying thick on the neglected grass, suitably but unglamorously dressed in an elderly sweater and skirt and wellies. Since there was no one to see, she had tied her hair back with a bit of string from the garden shed. She had found a rake there and set to with a will, for the moment happy; her small worries were forgotten as she planned just how the garden would look once she had tamed its wildness and cared for it. She paused to lean on the rake.

      ‘Roses,’ she decided, ‘and lavender and peonies and lupins and hollyhocks.’

      She had been talking to herself, something she quite often did even if Rastus wasn’t there to listen. ‘It’ll look lovely, I promise you.’

      She flung an arm wide and nearly fell over when the doctor said, an inch or so from her ear. ‘Do you often talk to yourself?’

      She shot round to face him and he thought that she looked quite pretty with colour in her cheeks and her hair hanging loose.

      ‘Of course not.’ She sounded tart. ‘I was talking to the garden. Flowers like being talked to. The Prince of Wales talks to his…’

      ‘So he does.’ The doctor sounded mild. ‘I’ve never found the time.’

      ‘No—well, of course I don’t suppose you would. Anyway, you would want to spend it with your…’

      She paused, not liking the cold look he gave her. She went on quickly. ‘Is it me you want to see about something? Or Father…?’

      ‘Your father.’ He watched her idly. The shabby clothes she was wearing did nothing for her but he had to admit that he liked her hair—and he was intrigued by her naturalness. Not his type, of course…

      He said briskly, ‘Your father is home?’

      ‘Oh, yes. He’ll be in his study—he’s writing a book.’

      She led the way to the front door, kicked off her wellies and ushered him into the narrow hall. ‘Mother’s in the sitting room…’

      ‘I’ll see your father first if I may.’

      Matilda put her head round the study door. ‘Father, here’s Dr Lovell to see you.’

      He went past her with a brief nod and closed the door gently behind him, and as he did so her mother came out of the sitting room. ‘Who is that?’ She frowned. ‘You should have fetched me, Matilda…’

      ‘Dr Lovell said he’d see Father first.’

      ‘Well, you go back into the garden; I’ll have a talk with him.’

      Mrs Paige went back to the sitting room and had a look in the old-fashioned mirror over the fireplace. She looked all right, she decided, but it wouldn’t harm her to add a little lipstick. And perhaps a touch more powder…

      Dr Lovell shook hands with his patient and drew up a chair. He said easily, ‘I’ve had all your notes from your previous doctor—Dr Grant, wasn’t it? I’ve met him; you couldn’t have been in better hands. But I’d like you to tell me how you feel now and then perhaps I might take a look at you?’

      He took his time, listening patiently to Mr Paige’s vague recital of how he felt. ‘Of course, I’m aware that I may have another heart attack at any time, but I feel well; I find it most restful living here and I have my writing, and possibly later on I shall be able to assist Mr Milton from time to time should he wish it.’

      Dr Lovell listened gravely and said presently, ‘Well, if I might take a look?’

      That done, he sat back in his chair. ‘As far as I can judge you are in excellent shape. I shall write you up for some different pills and I advise you to take a walk each day. СКАЧАТЬ