Hilltop Tryst. Betty Neels
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to them all before saying that he simply had to go but looked forward to seeing them again in a couple of days.
Beatrice saw him away in his showy little sports car, and went back to her mother and sisters.
‘Where’s Dr Latimer?’ she asked, and in the same breath, ‘Well, did you like him? I think he’ll be splendid—’
‘Oliver,’ said Mrs Browning gently, ‘has gone back to check on your father’s condition, then he is driving up to London, presumably to work at one of the hospitals. I only hope that he gets a rest during the day; he was up all night…’
‘All night? Oh, I didn’t know; that must have been why he was so quiet.’
Her mother said drily, ‘Probably. You’re satisfied that Mr Wood will do all right, darling?’
Beatrice nodded. ‘Oh, yes, Mother. I’m sure he will, and he doesn’t want a contract or agreement or anything in writing; he plans to go to Canada in a few months and wouldn’t want to stay anyway. He says there aren’t many good openings for a man without capital. He’s ambitious.’
‘I didn’t like him,’ said Ella suddenly.
‘Why ever not?’
‘I don’t know—I just didn’t like him.’
‘Well, that doesn’t really matter, for you’ll not see much of him.’ Beatrice spoke with unusual tartness. ‘There’s the phone—Father…’
It was Dr Stevens. ‘Your father is recovering well, phone here for news some time in the evening. There is no need for your mother to come again today; she needs a rest anyway. Dr Latimer will be down to see him tomorrow afternoon. I suggest your mother comes then, and she can talk to him then about your father.’
‘I’ll tell her. Thank you for all you are doing, Dr Stevens.’
‘It’s Dr Latimer that you should thank—we had a very anxious few hours during the night, but he dealt with the complications. He’s a very sound man, you know; you were lucky to have him.’
‘We are very grateful,’ said Beatrice, and put down the receiver slowly. Of course they were grateful, and she felt suddenly guilty because, in the pleasure of meeting Colin Wood, she had forgotten the doctor.
She did her best to make up for it the following afternoon. She and her mother had visited her father, who was conscious now and feebly cheerful, and then they were ushered into Sister’s office, where Dr Latimer and Dr Stevens were murmuring thoughtfully together. They turned impassive faces towards them as they went in, shook hands and offered chairs.
‘Well,’ began Dr Latimer, ‘your husband is coming along very nicely, Mrs Browning, but it will be a slow job—you do realise that? We’ll keep him here for a week or two, and when you get him home he will have to take things easily for some time.’ He smiled then, and Beatrice thought once again what a very nice man he was.
She said, ‘We are truly grateful to you, Dr Latimer. We can never repay you…’
‘My patient’s recovery is payment enough, Beatrice,’ he told her coolly, and for some reason she felt snubbed, not by his words but by his manner—perhaps in hospital he was impersonal to everyone, but he wasn’t the man who had watched the sunrise with her on Midsummer’s morning, or if he were he was taking care to hide it.
She accompanied her mother back home, and after they had all had tea Carol left to go back to her rooms in Salisbury and Kathy went off with her fiancé. ‘In the morning you can go back to school, Ella,’ said Mrs Browning. ‘The house will seem empty.’
‘Mr Wood will be here,’ observed Beatrice, and felt a little surge of excitement.
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