Only by Chance. Бетти Нилс

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СКАЧАТЬ unearthly hour this morning. I’ll speak to Dr Taylor presently.’

      He got back into his car, leaving the houseman agog with curiosity. Mr Ross-Pitt was liked and respected; he expected his students to work hard and his standards were high, but he had never been known to rebuke any of them before anyone else and he was fair. He was always ready to listen to the young surgeons in his team and he was a splendid lecturer. On the other hand no one knew anything about him.

      The houseman, making his way to the women’s medical wards, decided that he would say nothing. Probably some employee—a domestic working for him, wherever he lived.

      He wasn’t so sure about that when he examined Henrietta. She was awake now, feverish and fretful, but she answered his questions in a small, husky voice and thanked him politely when he had finished. A pretty voice, he decided, despite the huskiness, and an educated one.

      He wrote up his notes ready for Dr Taylor, went to see the ward sister and took himself off to breakfast, uneasy at Henrietta’s anxious enquiry as to Dickens and Ollie, whoever they were. He had told her easily that they would be taken care of, but the memory of her anxiety stayed with him.

      Mr Ross-Pitt, back at Mrs Gregg’s house, wasted no time. He suggested once more, in a voice which compelled her to agree, that he should take the cats with him. ‘My housekeeper will look after them until Miss Cowper is well again,’ he repeated. ‘Is there any rent owing?’

      That was more like it. She said at once that there would be two weeks to pay on Wednesday. He was aware that this wasn’t true, for she didn’t look at him as she said so, but she probably needed the money. He paid her and fetched the cats, with Dickens indignant at having a cloth tied over his box while the kitten cowered beside him.

      ‘I’ll be in touch,’ said Mr Ross-Pitt, and drove himself to his flat. He deposited Dickens and Ollie by the fire, offered refreshment and went to bath and change, wasting no time over it as he was due to operate later that morning. Over breakfast, cooked by the cleaning lady who came each day, he applied his powerful brain to his problems.

      Henrietta was, for the moment, dealt with. There remained the cat and kitten, sitting by his fire, watching him anxiously. There also remained Henrietta’s future. It was unthinkable that she should go back to that attic room, where she would probably get ill again unless there was someone on hand to make her see sense. Another job was the answer, of course—somewhere where she could have the cats and work reasonable hours. That would settle the question nicely.

      He gave careful instructions to the cleaning lady about Dickens and Ollie and then left for the hospital. There was no time to do more than go straight to Theatre, where he became at once immersed in his list—a lengthy one—starting with a craniotomy to arrest haemorrhage from a meningeal artery and ending hours later with a delicate operation on an elderly man with Parkinson’s disease.

      He was in Sister’s office, having a cup of coffee and a sandwich before he went to the outpatient’s clinic at three o’clock, when Dr Taylor phoned him.

      ‘I’ve examined this girl you brought in, Adam. Pneumonia. I’ll keep her in on antibiotics—they should do the trick. A bit under the weather, though; she could do with a week or two off work, whatever she does.’

      ‘She works part-time in Occupational Therapy, and I believe she has an early-morning job, cleaning offices.’

      ‘Really? She doesn’t seem the type. No family?’

      ‘I believe not. If someone comes to visit her, perhaps Sister could find out?’

      ‘Yes. I’ll keep you posted.’

      “Thanks, Bob. Next time I’m at Occupational Therapy I’ll see if Mrs Carter can’t give her a full-time job. There’s always the chance that she has friends or family who will help her.’

      He put the phone down; Henrietta was all right for the moment; he had done what he could for her. But surely there were friends...? He went off to his clinic.

      It was after six o’clock by the time he had seen his last patient, and he thought with relief of his drive home, with Mrs Patch waiting with a delicious meal. First, though, he had to go and see Henrietta.

      She was awake, her face flushed, her hair plaited severely, a hospital nightie several sizes too large hardly adding to her appearance. Mr Ross-Pitt accompanied Sister to her bed and stood looking down at her.

      ‘I’m glad to see you looking more comfortable,’ he told her kindly. ‘I hope you will do exactly as Sister says so that you may get well as quickly as possible.’

      She stared up at him. He made it sound as though she had been a naughty small girl, but how could she expect him to understand? He lived in a different world, where there was always money in his pocket and abundant food and drink in the larder. She said, ‘Dickens and Ollie...’

      ‘Ah. yes, I have them safe. If you agree I will let my housekeeper look after them until you are well again.’

      ‘You’re kind. Thank you. She won’t mind?’

      ‘Not in the least. When you are discharged I’ll arrange for them to be brought back to you.’ He sounded brisk and impersonal. ‘Goodbye, Miss Cowper.’

      She closed her eyes as he walked away. She wasn’t going to see him again, after all; he had been kind, especially taking Dickens and Ollie to his home, but she had sensed his impatience. Of course, he didn’t want to be saddled with her; he had been angry and she thought that he still was. She must hurry up and get well and get back to work again...

      It was a good thing that she didn’t know that her cleaning job had already been given to someone else, and Mrs Carter, when apprised of her illness, had immediately gone to see the hospital manager and demanded that she had a replacement at once.

      ‘She’s bound to be off sick for some time,’ she pointed out, ‘and I simply must have more staff.’ She added mendaciously, ‘Her family will want her to go back home; she can probably get a job out of London.’

      Mr Ross-Pitt drove to his flat, spent ten minutes with his secretary in his consulting rooms on the floor below, and then fed Dickens and Ollie, put them back in the cardboard box and took them down to the car, making a mental note to purchase a suitable cat-basket. Not that either of them gave him any trouble. They had had a bewildering day and huddled together on the back seat, making no sound.

      He drove fast, anticipating a quiet evening with no need to return to his consulting rooms until the following early afternoon. He would have to call in to the hospital to check on his patients, but even so he wouldn’t need to leave home until noon. It was with quiet pleasure that he saw the lighted windows of his house, and a moment later Mrs Patch opened the door, allowing Watson to dash past her to greet his master.

      Mr Ross-Pitt stopped to fondle him. ‘Hello, old fellow. I’ve a surprise for you.’ He picked up the box and bore it indoors. ‘Mrs Patch, you have no idea how pleasant it is to be home—and I have brought a problem with me.’

      The box he was holding heaved, and Mrs Patch said, ‘Lawks, sir, an animal—?’

      ‘Two. A cat and a very small kitten. I will tell you about them presently. Could they stay in the kitchen for the moment? If I put their box by the Aga, perhaps they could have a saucer of food? They’ve had a tiresome day.’

      He went СКАЧАТЬ