The Convenient Wife. Бетти Нилс

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      ‘If you have decided what you wish to do with your furniture and who is to deal with it, there is no reason why the business shouldn’t be settled at once. Presumably you don’t have any more days off for another week?’

      ‘No, I don’t. And I should like to get everything settled today and tomorrow. I have chosen a firm I think will do. A local business—perhaps they could collect the furniture before I go back to the hospital.’

      He put down his cup. ‘Then let us go without delay.’

      ‘Give me two minutes,’ begged Venetia, and belted upstairs to fetch her coat and handbag. He was obviously impatient to get the whole business settled; indeed, she suspected that he probably regretted even offering to help her in the first place. Well, two could be businesslike; she nipped down to the hall, intent on getting through the afternoon’s business as quickly as possible.

      Things went smoothly. At the professor’s instigation, someone from the house furnishers she had elected to go to accompanied them to her grandmother’s house and, since it was a small place and there wasn’t a great deal of furniture, within the hour he had assessed its contents and named a price, with the undertaking that it would be removed on the following day and a cheque for the amount paid to her if she cared to call in the afternoon. Moreover, he offered to store the one or two pieces she wished to keep. The matter nicely settled, they all drove back to his place of business where Venetia arranged to call on the following day.

      The professor had had little to say, but what he had said had been very much to the point and with no words wasted. She got back into the car and they drove back to his house and went indoors. In the hall he said, ‘I suggest that you telephone your solicitor and anyone else concerned with your affairs. There’s a phone in the small sitting-room.’ He turned away. ‘You will excuse me if I leave you? I have some letters to dictate before I go back to St Jude’s.’

      ‘Thank you very much for your help, Professor. I’m very grateful.’

      He paused at his study door. ‘You have no relations other than your father’s cousin who has no interest in you?’

      ‘No.’ He was frowning so heavily that she added kindly, ‘But it doesn’t matter at all, I’ve lots of friends.’

      He nodded. ‘I shall be out this evening. Feel free to come and go as you please. You return to your duties tomorrow?’

      She made haste to assure him that she would return to the hospital when she had been to receive the cheque from the furniture company. ‘I—I’ve promised to go out in the evening,’ she fibbed, in case he might think that she would want to stay for dinner.

      He regarded her thoughtfully, aware of her small lie, even guessing why she had told it. ‘Just as you wish.’ He smiled faintly. ‘I dare say that we shall see each other occasionally in St Jude’s.’

      ‘Oh, yes, but not to talk to, of course. I’m not supposed to talk to consultants, only to answer them if they ask me something.’

      She gave a brisk nod and went upstairs to take off her coat. When she went down again the house was quiet as she went to the small sitting-room and did her telephoning. That done, she sat quietly until Todd came in with the tea-tray and the news that the professor had returned to the hospital and would only come back for a brief visit in order to change for the evening.

      She was saved from loneliness by the presence of the cat, who curled up on the chair on the other side of the hearth and went to sleep while she sat with paper and pen, making plans. The money from the furniture sale wasn’t a great deal, but she felt emboldened to spend a little of it; she needed new boots for the winter as well as a topcoat. The remainder she would put in the bank to swell her tiny capital against a rainy day.

      And tomorrow, she reflected, she would leave during the morning, for she felt that she had tried the professor’s hospitable instincts to their limit. She could look at the shops, have a snack lunch, collect her cheque and go back to St Jude’s. Having decided things to her satisfaction, she drank the sherry Todd handed to her and sat down to her dinner. It was a pity that her grandmother wasn’t there to share the delicious food. For a moment her firmly suppressed grief threatened to engulf her, but Granny had had no time for self-pity. She was young, and once she had trained she would have a safe, interesting job for as long as she wanted, or until she retired, she supposed. She dreamed of marrying, as any girl of her age would, but she had no looks to speak of and, according to her friends at the hospital, looks were of paramount importance when it came to getting a husband.

      She was a sensible girl, and she didn’t dwell on the lack of romance in her future, but made civil conversation with Todd, who was presiding over her dinner. He excused himself when he had served her pudding, and she heard him talking in the hall, and then the professor’s deep voice. Todd came back presently, and after a little while she heard the professor’s step in the hall and the sound of the heavy front door being shut.

      She explained to Todd when she went down to breakfast that she would be leaving that morning, refusing his offer of a nice lunch, although she agreed that she wouldn’t go until he had brought her coffee later on in the morning. And, when it came to the point of leaving, she felt real regret as she thanked the Todds for their kindness; the professor’s home had spelt security and calm just when she had needed it. She refused the taxi Todd offered her, and walked to the High Street, where she idled away an hour before having lunch in a small café and then going to collect her cheque. That done, there was nothing to keep her there any longer. She made her way to Percy Lane and found the little house already empty, and, mindful of the solicitor’s instructions, left the keys on the sitting-room mantelshelf and then went quickly away, closing the door behind her and not looking back.

      In a way it was a relief to be back at work, even though Staff Nurse Thomas was sharper tongued than usual and there were several testy patients who wanted attention all the time, never mind how busy the nurses were.

      Of the professor there was no sign. It wasn’t for a day or two after her return that Caroline, sharing a pot of tea with her before bed, observed that he had gone back to Holland.

      ‘How do you know?’ asked Venetia. ‘I mean, you knew last time, too…’

      ‘Tim told me. But he’ll be back. I heard Theatre Sister telling Sister Bolt that there was a brain tumour being sent over from Jersey—he’s bound to be back to deal with it. It’s a teaser, she said, and they always have him over for the nasty ones.’

      Two days later she met him in one of the long downstairs corridors. She was on her way to collect a drug which had to be given immediately, and was racing along much too fast. His long arm, shooting out to try to stop her, brought her to a halt.

      He had his registrar with him, which probably accounted for his bland, ‘Ah, Nurse Forbes. Your domestic difficulties are at an end, I trust?’

      ‘Yes, thank you, sir.’ She had gone a little pink with the unexpectedness of the meeting, and when he nodded in a dismissive manner she smiled a little uncertainly at him and hurried off on her errand. Seeing him brought back the memories she had been trying so hard to stifle. All at once she longed for her grandmother and the little house in Hampstead—more than that, she longed for an anchor, somewhere to call home, somewhere to go when she was free. She hadn’t moped, she had done her best, spending her free days visiting museums and art galleries, eating economical meals in busy cafés СКАЧАТЬ