Sister Peters in Amsterdam. Betty Neels

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СКАЧАТЬ searching and numerous. Sister Peters began to think that he would never go, and blushed guiltily when he said at length:

      ‘Forgive me for taking up so much of your time, Sister. I do have an excellent reason for doing so, and that must be my excuse.’ He hesitated, and she thought he was going to say more; instead he smiled at her so charmingly that she felt a distinct stab of regret when he left the ward.

      She wondered about him once or twice during the rest of the day and so far forgot herself as to day-dream about him—something quite alien to her nature, for she was a sensible young woman who accepted her life cheerfully and made the most of it. Only persistent cries of ‘Adelaide, it’s your turn to make the tea’ from the other occupants of the Sisters’ sitting room brought her back to reality, and as she jumped to her feet to put the kettle on, she told herself not to waste her time on such senseless mooning. This sensible attitude of mind, however, did not last very long, and her last thoughts before she slept that night were of the professor from Holland.

      Coenraad van Essen, walking back with Matron to her office, assured her that he considered Sister Peters would be most suitable for the post in his hospital. Matron nodded her agreement.

      ‘Sister is a first-class nurse,’ she said. ‘She’s young, I know, barely twenty-five, but she has had several years’ experience and is especially good with children in Out-Patients and Casualty, and I understand that she will be working for you in those departments at your clinic.’

      ‘Will she object to living in Holland for a year? Has she family ties or—er—is she engaged to be married?’

      Matron reassured him. ‘Sister is the daughter of a country parson, she has twin brothers younger than herself—still at school, I believe. They are a devoted family, but I see no reason why she should not go to Holland, for to the best of my knowledge she is not engaged. She’s a very popular girl, but shy, and makes no effort to attract attention.’

      ‘There could hardly be any need to do so,’ murmured the professor, ‘with that hair.’

      Matron looked rather taken aback. ‘It is rather striking,’ she conceded, ‘but I can assure you that whatever the colour of her hair, Sister Peters is ideally suited for the post.’

      They parted on the friendliest of terms, arranging to meet in Matron’s office in the morning, as the professor had expressed a wish to be present when Sister Peters was offered the job. It was almost nine o’clock the next morning when the phone rang, and Adelaide, who had been half expecting a summons, answered it. It was Matron. ‘Sister Peters, would you come to my office at once, please?’ She answered with a meek ‘Yes, Matron,’ and thought uneasily of the noisy toddlers and untidy ward yesterday afternoon, which Matron would not have failed to observe. Perhaps the professor had remarked on it, although he had appeared oblivious of the chaos and noise around him. ‘And so he should,’ thought Adelaide. ‘If he runs a children’s clinic he must know that they shout and yell and vomit and wet their nappies, irrespective of Matron or doctors’ rounds.’ She smoothed her apron, put on her cuffs and patted the cap on her astonishing hair, told the staff nurse where she was going, and set off for the office.

      When she knocked and went in, the professor rose from the arm of the chair where he had been sitting, and she returned his greeting with a rather startled good morning as she went across the room to Matron’s desk. She eyed that lady warily. She appeared to be in a good humour, but with Matron that didn’t always signify; she could deliver a telling set-down in the friendliest possible way. Adelaide stole a look at the professor, lounging against the mantelpiece, with his hands in his pockets. He was looking at her and smiling almost as though he read her thoughts. She bit her lip and went a little pink as she dutifully gave Matron her full attention.

      ‘You have doubtless heard of the exchange scheme between this hospital and the Grotehof Hospital in Amsterdam, Sister.’ Matron looked at Adelaide, but gave her no time to reply. ‘As you know, an arrangement has been made for our two hospitals to exchange a member of our staff for a period of one year. The hospital committee has decided to nominate you, and I must say that much as we shall miss you, I must endorse their choice. Professor Van Essen feels that you will be most satisfactory for the post of Out-Patients and Casualty sister in his clinic—it only remains for you to decide if you will accept the offer.’

      Matron rounded off this speech with an encouraging smile and nod. Adelaide, who had been listening with growing surprise and excitement, was still trying to find her voice when the professor spoke.

      ‘Before you say anything, Sister Peters, I should like you to know that I and my staff will be very happy to welcome you at the clinic, and will do our best to make you happy as well as keep you busy while you are with us,’ he smiled down at her. ‘Please say that you will come.’

      Adelaide looked up at him. She liked his quiet, unhurried voice, she liked his face. He was very good-looking, she decided, but good looks didn’t count with her. His nose was certainly very beaky; she wondered why he wore glasses. His eyes were twinkling now, and she saw his lips twitch, and realised that she had been staring. She bit her lip. ‘I’m sorry,’ she stammered. ‘Quite understandable, Sister,’ he smiled. Adelaide made up her mind. She liked the professor, and rather to her own surprise, for she was not a hasty girl, found herself accepting his offer without further preamble.

      ‘Good, Sister Peters. I will leave Matron to make all the necessary arrangements, and shall hope to see you in due course.’

      ‘Well, that’s settled.’ Matron sounded pleased. ‘You will want to go back to your ward now, Sister. Perhaps you will come and see me this afternoon, and I will tell you all the details then.’

      Adelaide thanked her, and repeated her thanks rather shyly to the professor as he held the door open for her. He said nothing further, however, only smiled briefly.

      Her mind was in a whirl as she walked back to the Children’s Unit. Perhaps she should have taken more time to decide, but the professor had seemed so sure of her acceptance that it had seemed quite natural to say yes immediately. She felt a thrill of excitement. She hoped that Dutch wasn’t too difficult a language, for she supposed that she would have to learn it if she was to make a success of her new job. It suddenly seemed most important that she should do well and please the professor.

      CHAPTER TWO

      AS Adelaide walked towards the Children’s Clinic at eight o’clock on the morning of her first day in Amsterdam, the professor was coming down the staircase of his lovely old house on the Heerengracht. Below him he could see Castor and Pollux, his two labrador dogs, sitting side by side, waiting for him to take them for their morning walk. As he crossed the black and white tiled hall he gave a cheerful good morning to his butler, Tweedle, who looked up from the coat he was brushing.

      ‘Good morning, Mr Coenraad.’ He looked at his master over his old-fashioned spectacles. ‘You’ll need to wear a coat.’ He spoke in English, with the respectful familiarity of the old family servant and friend. The professor, born the Baron Coenraad Blankenaar van Essen, and possessed of a considerable fortune, would always be ‘Mr Coenraad’ to Tweedle and his wife, who acted as the professor’s housekeeper. The butler’s earliest recollections of Coenraad had been the conversations they had held with each other as he opened the great front door to allow the small boy and his even smaller sisters to go through on their way to the park or to school. The professor stood waiting patiently for his coat. He was polishing his glasses and looked quite different without them, and considerably younger. His eyes, bright and searching, were blue-grey.

      ‘Any news?’ he asked, as he put on his coat. Tweedle eased it over the broad shoulders.

      ‘Freule СКАЧАТЬ