Marrying Mary. Бетти Нилс

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СКАЧАТЬ had to admit that he had shown no special interest in her, but then why should he? Probably he was happily married...

      ‘Why are you sitting there?’ demanded Great Aunt Thirza. ‘There’s surely something you can be doing? I don’t approve of idle hands.’

      ‘I was waiting for you to wake up,’ said Mary. ‘Dr Symes wants you to have a warm drink—tea or milk or cocoa?’

      Great Aunt Thirza was feeling cantankerous. ‘I don’t want a drink...’

      Mary got to her feet. ‘I’ll bring you a tray of tea-Earl Grey—and do you fancy a little fish for your lunch?’

      ‘Fish! Fish? I’m very ill, girl, probably dying...’

      ‘Professor van Rakesma said that you will be up and about in a few days. You’ve had a nasty fright, Aunt Thirza, but there’s no question of your dying. A nice little piece of sole, with a morsel of creamed potato and perhaps a purée of new peas?’

      ‘You may bring it to me,’ said the old lady ungraciously, ‘but I shall most likely be unable to eat it.’

      It seemed a very long day to Mary; her aunt kept her busy, for she was a bad patient, prone to do exactly the opposite to what she was asked to do, so that Mary got into bed quite worn out with hanging on to her patience. She had phoned her mother that evening, and was relieved that everything was going smoothly at home—although Mrs Pagett’s efforts at cooking supper seemed to have been rather chaotic.

      ‘You won’t have to stay there long?’ her mother had asked.

      ‘No, I don’t think so.’ She recounted what the doctor had said but didn’t mention the professor’s offer to find a relief for her each day. It had been a kind thought, she reflected sleepily, but he would have forgotten by now.

      He hadn’t though. Mary was carrying her aunt’s lunch tray downstairs the next day when Mrs Cox admitted an elderly woman in a nurse’s uniform.

      Mary, poised on the bottom tread of the stairs, stared at her. ‘He actually meant it,’ she exclaimed.

      The woman smiled. ‘Indeed he did. Professor van Rakesma seldom says much, but when he does he means it. He has arranged for me to come each day while you are here—two o’clock until half-past five.’

      Mary put down her tray and shook hands. ‘That’s very kind and thoughtful of him—and kind of you too. It’s not interfering with your work? I didn’t realise that the Health Service were so helpful.’

      ‘Well, you must have time to yourself. I’m Maisie Stone.’ She glanced at Mrs Cox, who was standing by the door looking rather sour.

      ‘This is Mrs Cox, my aunt’s housekeeper,’ said Mary hastily. ‘She runs the house beautifully and is such a help.’

      Mrs Cox looked smug. ‘I’m sure I do my best but, as I told Miss Mary here, I won’t do no nursing or lifting or suchlike.’

      ‘Well, I wouldn’t expect you to do that,’ said Mrs Stone comfortably. ‘I’m sure we shall get on very well together.’ She turned to Mary. ‘If I might take a look at the patient?’

      Ten minutes later Mary was in the car, driving home. It was an awkward journey, but she had discovered several short cuts and the traffic wasn’t too heavy and it was worth it; her mother was delighted to see her—it wasn’t one of Mrs Blackett’s days and the kitchen needed urgent attention. Mary put on a pinny. ‘If you’ll make us a cup of tea—there’s a cake in the tin on the dresser—I’ll just clear these dishes and saucepans. What had you planned for the evening?’

      ‘There’s that chicken you were going to roast...’

      ‘I’ll casserole it. Then all you’ll have to do is put it in the oven a couple of hours before you want it.’ Mary picked up a teatowel. ‘Mother, supposing I write down what you need to buy each day? Then when I come home I’ll get it ready to cook.’

      ‘Oh, darling, would you? I’ve been so busy I’ve hardly had a moment to do any painting. Perhaps Polly...?’

      ‘Well, no, love, she’s got a lot of prep to do when she gets home, hasn’t she? If you pop down to the shops each morning you’ll have the rest of the day to work—you and Father can have a cold lunch. Is he at home?’

      ‘No. He said he’d be back about five o’clock.’

      Mary hung the teacloth to dry and sat down at the table. ‘So we’ll have tea and decide what to buy tomorrow.’

      ‘Will you be away long?’ asked her mother wistfully. ‘We don’t seem able to get on very well when you’re not here, dear.’

      ‘Not long, and I can come home each afternoon— well, most of them; I don’t know about weekends.’

      But when Sunday came Mrs Stone arrived at her usual hour, and this time the professor was. with her. He took a quick look at Mrs Winton, pronounced her greatly improved, suggested that she could take some exercise each day and, as they went downstairs, observed casually that since he had heard that Mary lived at Hampstead, and he was on his way there, he would give her a lift.

      Mary paused on the bottom tread. ‘Thank you; that’s kind of you to offer but I’ve got our car—I have to get back again, you see.’

      ‘I’m invited to tea with my godson—his parents live near the Heath. I’ll pick you up at around five o’clock and collect Maisie.’

      Even though she was so much in love with him and could hardly bear him out of her sight Mary took a few moments to agree to this. Her heart might be his, but common sense told her that allowing herself to get involved wouldn’t do at all. A prudent refusal was on the tip of her tongue when he said, ‘Well, run along and get your coat and we can be off.’

      He sounded just like the older of her two brothers; besides, if she refused to go she might never see him again...

      She went out to the car with him and he opened the door for her to get in. There was a dog sitting behind the steering-wheel—a Jack Russell, white and black with a whiskered face full of intelligence. He eyed her beadily and the professor said, ‘A friend, Richard,’ and went round to his door and got in.

      Richard moved to sit between them, panting and uttering short happy barks. Mary rubbed his ears and asked, ‘Why Richard? It’s an unusual name for a dog.’

      ‘He has a lion’s heart. Don’t let him crowd you; you like dogs?’

      ‘Yes, but we haven’t got one. We have a cat called Bingo.’

      He began to talk about her aunt then; he sounded exactly like a family doctor, which made him remote so that she couldn’t find the courage to ask him about his work, let alone his personal life. Even though he talked about Mrs Winton it was surprising the amount of information he gleaned from her without giving the least inkling of his own life.

      They were very nearly at her home when she asked shyly, ‘Do you live here in England or go back to Holland?’

      ‘My home is in Holland but I spend a good deal of time here.’ He added lightly, ‘A foot in either camp, as it were.’

      Which СКАЧАТЬ