Grasp a Nettle. Бетти Нилс

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      CHAPTER TWO

      MISS CREED SEEMED a little better in the morning, but Jenny, making her ready for the day, wasn’t too happy about her, but there were things she had to do. She left Aunt Bess in Florrie’s capable hands and went away to unpack her things, have a bath and change her clothes. Doctor Toms arrived just as she was finished breakfast and took her back upstairs with him while he examined his patient again, made a few non-committal remarks which only served to make her snort indignantly and then took Jenny aside to explain worriedly that there was an urgent maternity case he had to go to, but that the professor would be over at the earliest possible moment on his return from Yeovil hospital where he had been delivering a series of lectures to post-graduates. He went away then, warning Jenny that it seemed very likely that her aunt would have to go to hospital herself.

      Jenny set about making her aunt as comfortable as possible while she kept an ever watchful eye on her condition. There was no dramatic change, but certainly it was deteriorating steadily. Soon after one o’clock Florrie came to relieve her for her lunch, and stayed while Jenny did a brisk round of the old house, making sure that everything was ready for the visitors. The clock tower chimed twice as she went through the door in the entrance hall and up the circular stairs which led to the lobby on the next floor, and the private wing.

      There was someone in the lobby and the small apartment seemed crowded by reason of the vast size of the man standing there, and he wasn’t only large, but tall too, with iron-grey hair and bright blue eyes, and although he wasn’t young he was nonetheless handsome. Jenny spared a second to register that fact before saying pleasantly:

      ‘I think you must have missed your way; this leads to the private part of the house.’

      She was affronted by his cool: ‘I am well aware of that, young lady—perhaps you would tell whoever is looking after Miss Creed that I am here. Professor van Draak.’

      ‘Te Solendijk,’ added Jenny, who had a splendid memory for names. ‘I’m looking after her, I’m her niece, Janet Wren, so perhaps you’ll tell me anything I should know when you’ve seen her—treatment and so on,’ she pointed out kindly, for he looked so surprised.

      His thick eyebrows lifted. ‘I hardly think I need to discuss these things with you, Miss…er…it is surely not your business.’

      He had a deep voice, probably a delight to listen to when he was in a good mood, which he was not, Jenny decided. She turned her head to look out of the window at the small groups of people coming along the drive towards the entrance and spoke over her shoulder. ‘Of course it’s my business; Miss Creed is my aunt and I shall be nursing her. You have no reason to be so cross, you know.’

      He stared down his arrogant nose at her. ‘I am not cross, young lady. I do not allow my feelings to take control of me at any time.’

      Her eyes widened. ‘You poor soul,’ she exclaimed warmly, ‘it must be like walking about in a plastic bag!’

      He didn’t smile, although his eyes gleamed beneath their heavy lids. ‘You are foolish, Miss Wren, for in that case I should be dead.’

      ‘That’s what I meant.’ She delivered this telling shot with a sweet smile and opened the door. ‘If you would come with me, Professor…’

      He stalked down the corridor beside her, making no attempt to speak, and Jenny, keeping up as best she could, was quite relieved when they reached her aunt’s room. At the door, before she opened it, he said evenly: ‘You do understand that Doctor Toms was unable to come with me—it is a little unusual…’

      ‘Not to worry,’ Jenny told him cheerfully, ‘he’s an old family friend, you know. Aunt Bess won’t mind,’ she paused, ‘unless you do?’

      ‘It is usual for the patients’ own doctor to be present,’ he pointed out in his almost faultless English. ‘I am a foreigner—your aunt…’

      ‘Oh, don’t worry about that.’ She spoke reassuringly. ‘She doesn’t like foreigners as a rule, but I expect she’ll like you.’

      She was about to open the door when his hand came down on hers, preventing her. ‘Why do you say that?’

      She smiled at him, wishing he didn’t look so unfriendly. ‘You look the part,’ she told him, and when he took his hand away, opened the door.

      Florrie, with a few urgent whispers to Jenny, went away, and Miss Creed said sharply from the bed: ‘Jenny? Where have you been? And when is that foreigner coming?’

      ‘He’s here now,’ said the Professor, his manner so changed that Jenny looked at him in surprise. He didn’t look angry and withdrawn any more, but calm and assured, a rock for any patient to lean upon and pour out their symptoms. His voice was gentle too and although nothing could alter the masterful angle of his nose, his manner was such to win the confidence of the most cantankerous of patients. He had walked across the room, to stand by the bed in full view of his patient while Jenny introduced him, returning Miss Creed’s fierce stare with a mild look which Jenny found hard to believe.

      ‘You will forgive me,’ said the Professor suavely, ‘that I should come in this fashion without our mutual friend Doctor Toms. I believe he has explained the circumstances to Miss…er…’ He paused and looked enquiringly at Jenny, who gave him a stony stare and didn’t utter a sound; if he wanted to call her Miss Er for the rest of their acquaintance, then let him! She got her own back presently, though.

      ‘Doctor Toms has told Professor van Draak—oh, dear what a very long name—te Solendijk all about you, Aunt Bess. Do you want me to stay?’

      Two pairs of blue eyes were turned upon her, two mouths, firm to the point of stubbornness, snapped: ‘Of course.’ They should get on famously, the pair of them, thought Jenny, casting her own eyes meekly downwards.

      The Professor took his time; he was not to be hurried by Miss Creed’s voice, bossy still though weak and slurred, telling him what to do and what not to do. When at length he was finished, she snapped: ‘Well, what’s the matter with me? Or is it just a headache—though I daresay you’ll make the most of it, whatever it is.’

      The Professor ignored that, straightening himself slowly and eyeing her with calm. ‘Yes, it is a headache, but that is only a symptom of its cause. I should like to operate on you, Miss Creed. Would you go into hospital?’

      ‘No. To be mauled about and pay hundreds of pounds for something an aspirin will cure.’

      He said impassively: ‘I’m afraid aspirin won’t cure this headache.’ He gave her a long, considered look and she stared back at him defiantly, although it obviously needed an effort; Aunt Bess was pushing herself to her limit. He went on deliberately: ‘If I don’t operate, Miss Creed, you will die.’

      ‘Plain speaking.’

      ‘I don’t think you will listen to anything else. I shouldn’t myself.’

      ‘You will tell me exactly what I have wrong with me and what my chances of living are.’

      ‘Certainly. You wish Miss…?’

      ‘Er,’ murmured Jenny helpfully. ‘I’m a nurse and I shall be looking after my aunt, Professor van Draak.’

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