Small Slice of Summer. Betty Neels

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СКАЧАТЬ Brent, the Medical Registrar, lounging in, very sure of himself, his good-looking face wearing a smile which not so very long ago would have melted her heart and now, rather to her surprise, made no impression upon it at all.

      ‘Hullo,’ he said, ‘how’s little Tishy? Haven’t seen you around for quite a few weeks—I was beginning to think you might have run away.’

      She eyed him steadily. ‘Why should you think that?’

      He shrugged his shoulders. ‘Oh, well—no hard feelings.’

      She arranged a recovery tray just so before she answered him. ‘I’m busy, there’s a case…’

      He interrupted her impatiently. ‘Oh, come off it, Tishy. To tell you the truth I’ve been a bit worried; didn’t like to think of you feeling jilted and all that, you know—after all, I couldn’t help it if you took me seriously, could I? And you’re a bit out of date, aren’t you. I mean, the odd weekend doesn’t mean a thing…’

      ‘It does to me.’ Neither of them heard the theatre door open, Doctor Mourik van Nie’s voice startled them both. ‘Perhaps if I might break into this most interesting discussion on your love life?’ he suggested placidly, and turned to Letitia to study her furious face with gentle amusement.

      ‘This next case coming in within a few minutes—she’s not so good.’ He ignored the other man completely and began to give her instructions; by the time he had finished Mike had gone.

      She boiled with temper while she dealt competently with her patient, damping down her furious thoughts so that she might concentrate on the matter in hand. Only some half an hour later, the patient transferred to the ward, nicely on the road to recovery again, did she allow her mind to dwell on the unfortunate episode which had occurred. And funnily enough it was the Dutchman she was furious with; for coming in like that and over-hearing Mike talking all that hot air. She paused, aware that his words, which at one time would have been quite shattering to her, were, in fact, just that. She had, let her face it, been a fool; she was well rid of him, even if her pride was still ragged at the edges. But that Doctor Mourik van Nie should have been a witness to such a nasty little scene—that was a different matter entirely; he must have found it amusing; he had stared at her as though he had never seen her before. She felt unreasonably annoyed about that, so that she clashed and banged her way around the recovery room before finally leaving it in a state of perfection. The quicker she got out of the hospital and into Aunt Maud’s placid company, the better.

      In her room she flung a few things into an overnight bag, changed into the tan jersey cardigan suit with the shell pink blouse she had bought instead of eating properly that month, coiled her long hair neatly on the top of her head and, nicely made up, dashed out to catch a bus.

      The Underground was crowded; she didn’t get a seat until the train had left Leytonstone, and it was a relief when she at last got out at Epping and went into the street. The crowds were a little less now, but the rush hour wasn’t quite over; track was still heavy coming from London. She was standing on the kerb waiting to cross the street when a group of people passing her unthinkingly shoved her off the curb into the path of the oncoming cars. She had a momentary glimpse of a sleek grey bonnet and heard the squeal of brakes as the bumper tipped her off balance. She fell, hoping desperately that her new out fit wouldn’t be ruined, aware as she fell that she had done so awkwardly and that her left ankle hurt most abominably. She had no chance to think after that, because Doctor Mourik van Nie was bending over her. ‘Well, I’m damned,’ he said, and then: ‘Does anything hurt? The bumper caught you and you fell awkwardly.’

      Letitia sat up, glad of his arm, comfortably firm, round her shoulders. ‘I was trying to save my dress. It’s my ankle, otherwise I’m fine.’

      A small crowd had collected, but the doctor took no notice of it, merely scooped her neatly off the ground and carried her to the car, where he sat her carefully on the front seat. ‘Let’s have a look,’ he suggested calmly, and slid her sandal off a decidedly swollen ankle. ‘A sprain, I fancy. Stockings or tights?’

      ‘Tights.’

      He produced a pair of scissors from a pocket. ‘Sorry about this—I’ll get you another pair,’ he promised as he made a neat slit and cut the nylon neatly way above the ankle. He was reaching for his bag in the back of the car when the policeman arrived. Letitia sat back, listening to the doctor’s quiet answers to the officer’s questions, the eager chorus of witnesses, anxious to allow no blame to rest upon him, and her own voice, a little wobbly, giving her name and address and where she was going and why. By the time things had been sorted out the ankle had been firmly bandaged and her head was beginning to ache. She didn’t listen to what the doctor said to the policeman—indeed, she barely noticed when he got in beside her and started the car; she was suddenly sleepy. The car was comfortable to the point of luxury; she closed her eyes.

      They were almost at Dalmers Place when she woke up again; she recognized the road almost at once. ‘I was going to my aunt in Epping,’ she began worriedly. ‘My days off, you know.’

      ‘You went to sleep—the best thing for you. Does she expect you?’

      ‘No.’

      ‘Then there’s nothing to worry about. I’m taking you to Dalmers Place. You’re a friend of Georgina, aren’t you—and Julius? They’ll be delighted to put you up for the night.’

      She turned to look at him, quite shocked. ‘Oh, you can’t do that—invite me there without them knowing, whatever will they say? If you’d stop…oh, dear, we’ve gone through Bishop’s Stortford, haven’t we? Could you go a little out of your way to Saffron Walden? There’s a station there—I could get on a train back to Epping.’

      ‘Hopping all the way? Don’t be absurd. Besides, I feel responsible for you—I knocked you down.’

      ‘But it wasn’t your fault, and really I can’t allow you…’

      He interrupted her in a placid voice. ‘Dear girl, what a mountain you are making out of this little molehill! And you know that you’re dying to get to bed and nurse that painful ankle.’

      She had to laugh a little then and he gave her a quick sideways glance and said: ‘That’s better,’ and a moment later slowed the car to allow Mr Legg, who did the garden and lived in the lodge at Dalmers Place, to come out and open the gate for them, and then drove, still slowly, up the short, tree-lined drive to the house where he stopped before its door, told her to stay where she was, got out, and went round the side of the house.

      Georgina looked up as he reached the terrace. ‘Hullo,’ she greeted him cheerfully. ‘We were just beginning to wonder what had happened to you.’

      ‘I’ve brought someone with me, I hope you won’t mind—it’s Tishy.’

      He was quick to see the quick look his friends exchanged and went on smoothly, ‘I could take her on…’ to be cut short by Georgina’s fervent: ‘No, Jason—we’re delighted, really, only Julius and I were talking about her—oh, quite casually,’ she avoided her husband’s twinkling eye, ‘and it’s funny, isn’t it, how when you talk about someone they often turn up unexpectedly. Where have you left her?’

      ‘In the car. She sprained her ankle—I knocked her down.’

      Georgina was already leading the way. ‘Oh, how unfortunate!’ she exclaimed, meaning exactly the opposite. She glanced at Julius over her shoulder and when Jason wasn’t looking, pulled a face at him. ‘But we must thank СКАЧАТЬ