Heidelberg Wedding. Бетти Нилс

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      There was a satisfied gleam in Mr Grenfell’s half-closed eyes. ‘I imagine Hatty could cope for a few days. Besides,’ he continued with an entire lack of conceit, ‘I shan’t be operating, so it won’t be all that busy.’

      ‘Very well, I’ll come with you, Mr Grenfell. Perhaps you’ll let me know when exactly we’re to leave and what I shall require to take with me. I do have a passport valid until the end of the year.’

      ‘Good. I’ll either see you this evening or send you a note.’ He opened the door he had been leaning against. ‘I’ll arrange things with the Office,’ he told her, and was gone before she could answer him.

      Hatty had to be told, of course, and her father telephoned during her dinner hour. But she didn’t say anything to anyone until she was summoned to the Office and given official permission to go with Mr Grenfell.

      Over tea in the Sisters’ room she mentioned it, aware that if she didn’t the hospital grapevine would get hold of the news and pass it on, highly distorted.

      ‘Whatever will that fiancée of his say to that?’ demanded Chloe Watkins, who was in charge of the Men’s Chest Unit on the other side of the landing. ‘I wouldn’t imagine she would take kindly to competition.’

      ‘But I’m not competing,’ offered Eugenia mildly, ‘just doing a nursing job.’

      ‘She won’t believe that. You’ll probably find her there as well, seeing fair play.’

      Eugenia chuckled. ‘We don’t even like each other; I think Mr Grenfell’s a super surgeon, and I suppose he finds me adequate as a nurse. Besides, we’re both going to be married…’

      ‘Can’t think why he waits so long,’ said a voice, ‘I mean, he’s not exactly lacking this world’s goods, is he?’

      ‘Cold feet,’ said someone else, and raised a laugh. And then: ‘What will your Humphrey say, Eugenia?’

      ‘I don’t know—at least, he won’t object. It’s a job, like everything else, isn’t it?’

      ‘Well, I for one,’ said that same voice, ‘wouldn’t mind going instead of you, Eugenia. Mr Grenfell is worth cultivating.’

      ‘Well, if he is, I haven’t got very far, and I’ve worked for him for three years now.’ Eugenia got to her feet. ‘I’m going back, there’s still a case in theatre.’

      The patient, an elderly woman with a stove-in chest; came back to the ward very shortly and Eugenia dealt with her needs with her usual calm. She had checked the two tubes and the blood transfusion, and made sure that the patient was as well as could be expected and was writing up the chart when Mr Grenfell came on to the ward. He spent a few minutes checking his patient’s condition, nodded his satisfaction and asked Eugenia to go with him to her office. Eugenia finished her writing, whispered a few instructions to Nurse Sims, positioned by the bedside, and led the way down the ward.

      ‘We go tomorrow evening by charter plane—five o’clock from here. I’ll pick you up at the entrance. One small case, and take uniform. You can wear ordinary clothes for the flight, of course. Don’t bother about money—I’ll see to that, but remember your passport. We shall fly straight to the Algarve and be met at the airport, examine the patient during the evening and again in the morning, and if it’s necessary arrange to operate that same day. You’ll probably be very busy; not much time to sleep and no time off.’ He started for the door. ‘Anything else you want to know?’

      Quite a bit, she thought, but as none of it was relevant to their actual journey there seemed little point in giving utterance to them. She said: ‘No, I think not, sir,’ and added, ‘Goodnight,’ and he nodded briefly and went.

      Eugenia sat down again and made a list of what she would need to take with her. And then, of course, there was the question of telling Humphrey. He might be a bit sticky, she reflected, although he had no reason to be. All the same he would have to be told, and as soon as possible. She was off duty that evening, and he might be free for an hour or so; they might go to a pub for something in a basket instead of supper in the hospital.

      Later that evening she had neither seen nor heard from him, so as she went off duty she went along to the porter’s lodge and asked old Evans to find out where he was.

      “ere yer are, Sister,’ said Evans, and handed her the receiver.

      Humphrey was free for the evening, and from the sound of his voice, still on the sulky side.

      ‘A drink and a sandwich?’ suggested Eugenia. ‘I’ve got something to tell you.’

      ‘Well, if it’s important,’ he agreed grudgingly.

      They met an hour later in the entrance hall and she could see at once that he was still sulking. Her heart sank, and she spent the ten minutes’ walk to the pub getting him into a good humour again. Over their chicken and chips in a basket and beer, she took heart and told him. The chicken and chips hadn’t been enough; she watched him grow remote, sorry for himself and finally critical. ‘I can’t think why you have to go,’ he observed coldly. ‘There are plenty of other nurses—your staff nurse, for instance. What’s so special about you?’

      ‘Nothing, only I know his routine inside out and the nurse there will have to be shown what to do. Why are you making a fuss, Humphrey?’

      He said with dignity: ‘I am not in the habit of making a fuss, Eugenia. I merely remarked that I can’t see the need for you to go. Have you accepted?’

      ‘Yes,’ said Eugenia calmly.

      ‘Without consulting me?’ He was definitely sulking again.

      ‘Well, Humphrey, I didn’t see the need for that. After all, I’m going on a nursing job, not a weekend at Brighton. And we’re not married, you know.’

      ‘We are engaged,’ he reminded her, ‘and I expect my wishes to be observed whenever possible.’ He added, to make her quite savage, ‘Mother wouldn’t like it at all.’

      Eugenia swallowed rage and hurt and annoyance. ‘Humphrey, I’m sorry if you’re annoyed about it—I never imagined you would be. And I can’t think why.’ She asked in a conciliatory voice: ‘Don’t you like Mr Grenfell?’

      ‘That’s beside the point,’ said Humphrey loftily. ‘You’re going against my wishes.’

      ‘How can I be doing that?’ she asked reasonably. ‘When Mr Grenfell asked me you didn’t know anything about it.’

      ‘You can at times be a very stubborn young woman, Eugenia. However, we’ll say nothing more about it. Presumably you’ll be back in time to spend the weekend we’d arranged with Mother?’

      Her heart sank at the very thought, but she said gently: ‘Of course, dear. Mr Grenfell said a week, and our weekend is still a fortnight away.’

      ‘I wouldn’t want to disappoint Mother,’ said Humphrey repressively. ‘If you’ve finished, we might as well be getting back to St Clare’s—I have a busy day ahead of me.’

      ‘So have I,’ said Eugenia, faintly waspish.

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