The Little Dragon. Бетти Нилс

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СКАЧАТЬ And as the Hofje van Gratie was close by it seemed a shame not to take a look at it while she was in that part of the town. By the time she had found her way back to the Markt square, it was too late to visit a museum; she went instead to the Hotel Central and had coffee in its dim warmth. There were a lot of people there, sitting in family groups or couples with their heads close together; it gave her the illusion that she was one of them, so that she settled quite happily to writing the postcards she bought at the bar and presently ordered more coffee and a ham broodje to go with it. Nel would have kept some supper for her—soup and something cold which she was expected to take to her room on a tray.

      The house was quiet as she went in an hour later. Constantia started gingerly up the stairs, intent on gaining her room without Mrs Dowling knowing that she was back. A half day was a half day, after all, although her patient seemed to think that once she was in the house, she could resume her duties at the drop of a hat. She had gained the landing when Mrs Dowling’s harsh voice called: ‘Is that you, Nurse? Come in here.’

      Constantia sighed and turned her steps to the front of the house where Mrs Dowling spent so much of her day. That lady looked up from her book as she went in with a peevish: ‘I can’t think what you find to do, Nurse—you might just as well stay in the house.’

      ‘I find exploring Delft very interesting, Mrs Dowling.’

      ‘Huh—and who do you meet on the sly?’ Mrs Dowling suddenly smiled rather nastily. ‘So you do meet someone—I can see it in your face.’

      ‘No, Mrs Dowling, I don’t, not an arranged meeting, and that’s what you’re hinting at. I did meet someone this afternoon—we said good afternoon and that was all.’

      ‘Who was it?’ demanded her patient.

      ‘I don’t think it could be of any interest to you, but there’s no secret about it. Doctor van der Giessen—I met him with Doctor Sperling a day or so ago.’

      ‘Him—he hasn’t any money,’ said Mrs Dowling deliberately.

      Constantia’s grey eyes surveyed her with veiled contempt. ‘He’s a hardworking doctor—surely that’s more important?’

      Her patient made a vulgar noise. ‘And what use is that with three children to clothe and feed and educate? I don’t know him, but Doctor Sperling has hinted as much. He’s poor.’ She uttered the word with contempt.

      Constantia composed her features into mild interest and said: ‘Oh?’

      ‘Don’t tell me you haven’t made it your business to find out? I thought all nurses were after doctors. Well, now you do know, so there’s no point in making eyes at him.’

      Constantia went a little pale; she said evenly: ‘If you’ll excuse me, Mrs Dowling, I still have an hour or so of my half day—I have some letters to write. I’ll say goodnight.’

      ‘You’re so damned ladylike!’ snapped her patient.

      She had spoilt what was left of the day, of course. Constantia went along to the kitchen and collected her frugal supper and then went to bed early, for there was nothing else to do. She took great care not to think about Doctor van der Giessen at all.

      Doctor Sperling came the next morning and because Mrs Dowling complained of headache, prescribed tablets—to be fetched by Constantia immediately, for the apotheek would be unable to deliver them at once. ‘Just over the bridge,’ he told her, ‘go through the shopping precinct, you will find it a little further along. You will need to get there by noon—they will be closing for lunch.’

      Mrs Dowling glanced at the diamond-studded watch on her bony wrist. ‘Yes, go now, Nurse, and you, Doctor Sperling, can stay for a few minutes and see what is to be done about my diet. I need variety—my appetite needs tempting.’

      Constantia felt a pang of pity for Doctor Sperling as she slipped away. Even ten minutes away from her patient was a pleasurable little bonus. Not even that lady’s ‘Hurry back, Nurse,’ could dim that. She whipped off the cap Mrs Dowling insisted that she wore, fetched her coat and let herself out of the house.

      She had finished her errand and was almost at the bridge when Doctor van der Giessen, carrying his bag, came out of a doorway.

      His ‘Good morning’ was genial. ‘Free so early in the day?’ he wanted to know.

      She beamed at him warmly, for it was like meeting an old friend. ‘No, just an errand—some pills for Mrs Dowling; Doctor Sperling wanted her to have them at once.’ She gave a small skip. ‘I have to be very quick.’

      He was blocking her path and he made no move to stand aside.

      ‘It’s not good for you to rush around. I prescribe two minutes of standing just where you are—we can while them away with a little light conversation. Did you enjoy your half day?’

      ‘Oh—yes. I walked to the Hofje van Elisabeth Pauw and then I went to see the other one close by, and by then it was too late to go to a museum, so I had coffee at the Central Hotel—it’s nice there. There were a lot of people.’

      His eyes were quick to see the wistfulness on her face. He said gently: ‘And then what did you do?’

      ‘I went back…’ She remembered Mrs Dowling’s remarks and went bright pink.

      ‘And your patient was waiting for you?’ he prompted.

      ‘Yes, she was—but it didn’t matter.’ She smiled at him. ‘I really must go.’

      He fell into step beside her, and as they crossed the bridge asked: ‘When is your next half day?’

      ‘Thursday. There’s a bridge party. It’s market day, isn’t it? I’m going to have a super time going round the stalls.’

      He caught her arm in a casual grip and steered her across the busy street. ‘I have a half day too—perhaps we could go together.’

      They were on the pavement outside the Hotel Central’s coffee room, full of people sitting at the little tables in its windows, watching the street and the passers-by in it.

      ‘Oh, I’d love that.’ Constantia sounded like a happy child, ‘but wouldn’t it bore you?’

      He was looking at the curious faces peering at them through the glass, but he turned to look down at her. ‘No, it wouldn’t. I enjoy your company.’ He smiled in a friendly fashion and went on casually: ‘I’ll be here waiting for you.’

      ‘Two o’clock,’ pronounced Constantia, and added, ‘You have no idea how marvellous it is to have a friend.’

      ‘You think of me as a friend?’ There was mild interest in his voice.

      ‘Oh, yes. I hope you don’t mind?’

      ‘I’m delighted. Shall we shake on it?’ They shook hands and the interested faces on the other side of the glass window smiled, although neither of them noticed that.

      Constantia was late. Mrs Dowling made a point of pointing that out to her. She grumbled on and off for the rest of the day too, so that Constantia went to bed with a faint headache; not that that mattered. Thursday wasn’t too far away; she would wash her hair, she decided rather absurdly, СКАЧАТЬ