A Christmas Romance. Бетти Нилс
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it to you. I mean, I think she’s already said it all …’
Sister laughed. ‘Let’s see what she says this time …’
She was reading it when the door opened and she glanced up and got to her feet. ‘Oh, sir, you’re early …’
The man who entered was very large and very tall so that Sister’s office became half its size. His hair was a pale brown, greying at the temples, and he was handsome, with heavy-lidded eyes and a high-bridged nose upon which was perched a pair of half glasses. All of which Theodosia noticed with an interested eye. She would have taken a longer look only she caught his eye—blue and rather cold—and looked the other way.
He wished Sister good morning and raised one eyebrow at Theodosia. ‘I’m interrupting something?’ he asked pleasantly.
‘No, no, sir. Miss Prescott and I are at odds about Mrs Bennett’s diet. They sent Theodosia down with the diet sheet she insists is the right one …’
He held out a hand and took the paper from her and read it.
‘You do right to query it, Sister. I think that I had better have a word with Miss Prescott. I will do so now and return here in a short while.’
He looked at Theodosia and opened the door. ‘Miss—er—Theodosia shall return with me and see fair play.’
She went with him since it was expected of her, though she wasn’t sure about the fair play; Miss Prescott usually made mincemeat of anyone disagreeing with her, but she fancied that this man, whoever he was, might not take kindly to such treatment.
Theodosia, skipping along beside him to keep up, glanced up at his impassive face. ‘You work here too?’ she asked, wanting only to be friendly. ‘This is such a big place I hardly ever meet the same person twice, if you see what I mean. I expect you’re a doctor—well, a senior doctor, I suppose. I expect you’ve met Miss Prescott before?’
There were climbing the stairs at a great rate. ‘You’ll have to slow down,’ said Theodosia, ‘if you want me to be there at the same time as you.’
He paused to look down at her. ‘My apologies, young lady, but I have no time to waste loitering on a staircase.’
Which she considered was a rather unkind remark. She said tartly, ‘Well, I haven’t any time to waste either.’
They reached Miss Prescott’s office in silence and he opened the door for her. Miss Prescott didn’t look up.
‘You took your time. I shall be glad when Mrs Taylor returns. What had Sister to say this time?’
She looked up then and went slowly red. ‘Oh—you need my advice, sir?’
He walked up to her desk, tore the diet sheet he held into several pieces and laid them on the blotter before her. He said quietly, ‘Miss Prescott, I have no time to waste with people who go against my orders. The diet is to be exactly as I have asked for. You are a dietician, but you have no powers to overrule the medical staff’s requests for a special diet. Be so good as to remember that.’
He went quietly out of the room, leaving Miss Prescott gobbling with silent rage. Theodosia studied her alarmingly puce complexion. ‘Shall I make a cup of tea?’
‘No—yes. I’m upset. That man …’
‘I thought he was rather nice,’ said Theodosia, ‘and he was very polite.’
Miss Prescott ground her teeth. ‘Do you know who he is?’
Theodosia, putting teabags into the teapot, said that no, she didn’t.
‘Professor Bendinck. He’s senior consultant on the medical side, is on the board of governers, has an enormous private practice and is an authority on most medical conditions.’
‘Quite a lad!’ said Theodosia cheerfully. ‘Don’t you like him?’
Miss Prescott snorted. ‘Like him? Why should I like him? He could get me the sack today if he wanted to.’ She snapped her mouth shut; she had said too much already.
‘I shouldn’t worry,’ said Theodosia quietly. She didn’t like Miss Prescott, but it was obvious that she had had a nasty shock. ‘I’m sure he’s not mean enough to do that.’
‘You don’t know anything about him,’ snapped Miss Prescott, and took the proffered cup of tea without saying thank you. Theodosia, pouring herself a cup, reflected that she would rather like to know more about him …
The day was rather worse than Monday had been, and, letting herself into her bed-sitter that evening, she heaved a sigh of relief. A quiet evening with Gustavus for company …
There was another letter from her aunts. She was invited to spend the following weekend with them. They had read in their newspaper that the air in London had become very polluted—a day or two in the country air would be good for her. She was expected for lunch on Saturday. It was more of a command than an invitation and Theodosia, although she didn’t particulary want to go, knew that she would, for the aunts were all the family she had now.
The week, which had begun badly, showed no signs of improving; Miss Prescott, taking a jaundiced view of life, made sure that everyone around her should feel the same. As the weekend approached Theodosia wished that she could have spent it quietly getting up late and eating when she felt like it, lolling around with the papers. A weekend with the great-aunts was hardly restful. Gustavus hated it—the indignity of the basket, the tiresome journey by bus and train and then another bus; and, when they did arrive, he was only too aware that he wasn’t really welcome, only Theodosia had made it plain that if she spent her weekends with her great-aunts then he must go too …
It was Friday morning when, racing round the hospital collecting diet sheets from the wards, Theodosia ran full tilt into the professor, or rather his waistcoat. He fielded her neatly, collected the shower of diet sheets and handed them back to her.
‘So sorry,’ said Theodosia. ‘Wasn’t looking where I was going, was I?’
Her ginger head caught fire from a stray shaft of winter sunshine and the professor admired it silently. She was like a spring morning in the middle of winter, he reflected, and frowned at the nonsensical thought.
‘Such a rush,’ said Theodosia chattily. ‘It’s always the same on a Friday.’
The professor adjusted the spectacles on his nose and asked, ‘Why is that?’
‘Oh, the weekend, you know, patients going home and Sister’s weekend, too, on a lot of the wards.’
‘Oh, yes, I see.’ The professor didn’t see at all, but he had a wish to stay talking to this friendly girl who treated him like a human being and not like the important man he was. He asked casually, ‘And you, miss … er … Do you also go home for the weekend?’
‘Well, not exactly. What I mean is, I do have the weekend off, but I haven’t got a home with a family, if that’s what you mean. I’ve got quite a nice bed-sitter.’
‘No family?’
‘Two great-aunts; they have me for weekends sometimes. I’m going there tomorrow.’
‘And where is “there”?’ He had a quiet, rather deliberate voice, the kind of voice one felt compelled to answer.
‘Finchingfield. That’s in Essex.’
‘You drive yourself there?’
Theodosia laughed. ‘Me? Drive? Though I can ride a bike, I haven’t a car. But it’s quite easy—bus to the station, train to Braintree and then the local bus. I quite enjoy it, only Gustavus hates it.’
‘Gustavus?’
‘My cat. He dislikes buses and trains. Well, of course, he would, wouldn’t he?’
The professor agreed gravely. He said slowly, ‘It so happens that I am going to Braintree