Sun and Candlelight. Бетти Нилс

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ that leg we’ve been looking at.’

      He launched into technicalities and Alethea poured his second cup of coffee and listened with one ear, while she speculated as to whether Mr van Diederijk would ask her out again. It was difficult to keep her mind on this, because Nick was sitting close to her and she was only too well aware of him. He was still behaving as though she was someone he had only just met and didn’t like, anyway, and she was hard put to it to maintain a serene front. She still felt terrible about him, but pride forbade her to show her feelings and there was a certain sad satisfaction in knowing that she was being successful in this. She saw the two men out of the ward presently and went back to her ward round which they had interrupted.

      Saturday came and went, and it was lucky that she was so very busy, she told herself, for now that she had no date, she was under no obligation to go off duty punctually on Saturday evening—indeed, she stayed on for an hour or more, much to Sue’s surprise and faint annoyance; surely Sister Thomas knew her well enough by now to know that she could safely leave the patients to her without fussing round in a totally untypical manner? It came to her presently that it might be on account of Nick Penrose. Alethea had said nothing and her manner towards him had given nothing away, all the same… Sue nodded her head wisely and when Alethea at last went off duty, wished her good night with genuine sympathy.

      Sunday and Monday were surprisingly quiet and Alethea had given herself her days off on Tuesday and Wednesday that week. Thursday was to be a heavy operating day, and she liked to be on duty for theatre days, anyway. She went home on Monday evening, driving through the lovely April evening and seeing nothing of it, her mind busy. She would waste no more time in being sorry for herself, but she knew that she would have to get away from Nick before she could take up the threads of her life once more. She would have liked to have given in her notice there and then, but that wasn’t possible; she would have to work her month out, like everyone else, and find herself another job. It might look as though she were running away from an unpleasant situation, and in a way, she was and probably Nick would get some satisfaction from it, but her friends would understand and as far as she could see, it was the best way, indeed, the only way.

      She told her grandmother of her vague plans that evening and that lady, without asking any awkward questions, heartily agreed with her before embarking on a series of helpful suggestions as to where she should go.

      ‘Give London a rest,’ she urged. ‘Why not Edinburgh? I know it’s a long way and you won’t get home nearly as often, but you’ll be breaking new ground.’ Mrs Thomas settled back in her chair. ‘Get out that port the vicar gave me at Christmas, child, we’ll have a glass while we’re thinking.’

      But there was nothing much to discuss, when all was said and done. Alethea loved her grandmother dearly, but she had no intention of burdening her with her troubles; all the same, it was pleasant to sit there and make plans for the future with someone who really was interested. It was probably the port which made her sleep soundly for the first time in nights.

      She awoke early to a splendid morning with a brisk wind and sunshine, which, while not over-warm, gave promise of a lovely day. She lay in bed for a little while and then remembered how Mrs Bustle had been grumbling mildly about the spring cleaning, something which she insisted upon doing each year. Alethea got out of bed, got into slacks and a thin sweater and crept downstairs. The sitting room curtains, Mrs Bustle had observed gloomily, simply had to come down and have a good blow.

      Alethea made tea, drank it at the open kitchen door, gave Podge the cat his morning milk and set about getting the curtains out into the garden. They were old and faded, but their damask was still good. They were also very heavy; she hauled them down the garden path to the very end where the clothes line was, and hung them upon it, and then, quite carried away by her success, went into the dining room and did the same for the green serge hanging at the big sash window there. She would make more tea, she decided, and take a cup upstairs to both ladies before getting the breakfast; Mrs Bustle could do with an extra hour in bed. The old ladies were grateful. With strict instructions about breakfast she was allowed to go downstairs again, lay the table and put on the porridge. She was hungry by now and the packet of Rice Crispies she found in a cupboard was welcome; she sat on the kitchen table, eating them, her head, just for the moment, happily free of unhappy thoughts.

      ‘Now that’s what I like to see,’ said Mr van Diederijk cheerfully from the window behind her, ‘a strong young woman working in the kitchen.’

      She turned to look at him, surprised at the little rush of pleasure she felt at the sight of him. She answered him through a mouthful of crispies: ‘I very much doubt if you ever bother to go to the kitchen, whether there’s a strong young woman there or not.’ She frowned a little; such a description made her feel large and muscley.

      ‘Oh, but I do—I have a housekeeper, a Scotswoman who bakes Dundee cakes for me. I’m partial to a nice Dundee cake. May I come in?’

      And when she nodded he lifted a long leg over the sill and slid neatly into the room. He was looking very trendy, she considered. Not young any more but distinguished, and his clothes were just right.

      He put out a hand and she shook some Rice Crispies into it. ‘You pay your visits very early,’ she observed.

      ‘I came over on the Harwich ferry, it got in just after six.’ He glanced at his watch. ‘It’s almost eight o’clock. Have you had breakfast?’

      ‘Not yet. Would you like some? My grandmother and Mrs Bustle will be down very soon, I’m waiting for them.’ She got down off the table. ‘How did you know I was here, or did you just happen to be passing?’

      He looked vague. ‘Oh, someone or other told me where you lived and I thought that if I called about breakfast time…’

      Alethea laughed and at the same time felt vaguely peeved that he hadn’t come specially to see her, only on the offchance of getting breakfast. She thrust the thought aside as absurd; now if it had been Nick…

      ‘Don’t look so sad.’ Mr van Diederijk’s voice was kind. ‘I’m not young Penrose, but at least I provide you with company.’

      She lifted startled eyes to his. ‘However did you know that I was thinking that?’

      ‘Logic.’ He wandered over to the open door. ‘What a charming garden. Why are all the curtains hanging on the line and not at the windows?’

      Alethea explained, and halfway through Mrs Bustle came in, was introduced, declared herself pleased to meet their visitor, enquired if he liked two eggs with his bacon or three and ordered them with brisk kindness out of her kitchen. ‘The sitting room’s got the sun,’ she pointed out, ‘though it looks a bit bare without those curtains, and as for you, Miss Alethea, you’d do well to go and wash your face and hands and comb your hair for your breakfast.’

      ‘The worst of these old family servants and friends,’ remarked Mr van Diederijk, ushered into the sitting room by Alethea, ‘is that having known you since you were so high, they never allow you to grow up. I know—I’ve one at home.’

      ‘The one who bakes the cakes?’

      ‘The very same. Are you on duty tomorrow?’

      She paused at the door. ‘Yes—I drove down.’

      ‘Ah, well—I’ll drive you back. You can always come down by train and drive back next time?’

      ‘Well, yes, I could. But I’m not going until this evening.’

      ‘Ah—I’m invited СКАЧАТЬ