The Mistletoe Kiss. Бетти Нилс
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yet more calls, putting through outside calls too—to other hospitals, the police, someone from a foreign embassy who had heard that one of the staff had been injured. She answered them all in her quiet voice, trying to ignore a threatening headache.
It seemed a very long time before order emerged from the controlled chaos. There were no more ambulances now, and patients who needed admission were being taken to the wards. The accident room, still busy, was dealing with the lesser injured; the hospital was returning to its normal day’s work.
It was now ten o’clock. Emmy, looking at her watch for the first time in hours, blinked. Where was Audrey? Most of the receptionists had come in, for they had rung to tell her so, but not Audrey. Emmy was aware that she was hungry, thirsty and very tired, and wondered what to do about it. She would have to let someone know…
Audrey tapped on her shoulder. She said airily, ‘Sorry I’m late. I didn’t fancy coming sooner; I bet the place was a shambles. I knew you wouldn’t mind…’
‘I do mind, though,’ said Emmy. ‘I mind very much. I’ve had a busy time, and I should have been off duty two hours ago.’
‘Well, you were here, weren’t you? Did you expect me to come tearing in in the middle of all the fuss just so’s you could go off duty? Besides, you’re not doing anything; you only go to bed…’
The professor, on his way home, paused to listen to this with interest. Ermentrude, he could see, was looking very much the worse for wear; she had undoubtedly had a busy time of it, and she had been up all night, whereas the rest of them had merely got out of their beds earlier than usual.
He said now pleasantly, ‘Put on your coat, Ermentrude; I’ll drive you home. We can take up the matter of the extra hours you have worked later on. Leave it to me.’
Emmy goggled at him, but he gave her no chance to speak. He said, still pleasantly, to Audrey, ‘I’m sure you have a good reason for not coming on duty at the usual time.’ He smiled thinly. ‘It will have to be a good one, will it not?’
He swept Emmy along, away from a pale Audrey, out of the doors and into his Bentley. ‘Tell me where you live,’ he commanded.
‘There is no need to take me home, I’m quite able—’
‘Don’t waste my time. We’re both tired, and I for one am feeling short-tempered.’
‘So am I,’ snapped Emmy. ‘I want a cup of tea, and I’m hungry.’
‘That makes two of us. Now, where do you live, Ermentrude?’
CHAPTER TWO
EMMY told him her address in a cross voice, sitting silently until he stopped before her home. She said gruffly, ‘Thank you, Professor. Good morning,’ and made to open her door. He shook her hand and released it, and she put it in her lap. Then he got out, opened the door, crossed the pavement with her, took the key from her and opened the house door. George rushed to meet them while Snoodles, a cat not to be easily disturbed, sat on the bottom step of the stairs, watching.
Emmy stood awkwardly in the doorway with George, who was making much of her. She said again, ‘Thank you, Professor,’ and peered up at his face.
‘The least you can do is offer me a cup of tea,’ he told her, and came into the hall, taking her with him and closing the door. ‘You get that coat off and do whatever you usually do while I put on the kettle.’
He studied her face. Really, the girl was very plain; for a moment he regretted the impulse which had urged him to bring her home. She had been quite capable of getting herself there; he had formed the opinion after their first meeting that she was more than capable of dealing with any situation—and with a sharp tongue, too. She looked at him then, though, and he saw how tired she was. He said in a placid voice, ‘I make a very good cup of tea.’
She smiled. ‘Thank you. The kitchen’s here.’
She opened a door and ushered him into the small room at the back of the house, which was, he saw, neat and very clean, with old-fashioned shelves and a small dresser. There was a gas stove against one wall—an elderly model, almost a museum piece, but still functioning, he was relieved to find.
Emmy went away and he found tea, milk and sugar while the kettle boiled, took mugs and a brown teapot from the dresser and set them on the table while Emmy fed Snoodles and George.
They drank their tea presently, sitting opposite each other saying little, and when the professor got to his feet Emmy made no effort to detain him. She thanked him again, saw him to the door and shut it the moment he had driven away, intent on getting to her bed as quickly as possible. She took a slice of bread and butter and a slab of cheese with her, and George and Snoodles, who had sidled upstairs with her, got onto the bed too—which was a comfort for she was feeling hard done by and put upon.
‘It’s all very well,’ she told them peevishly. ‘He’ll go home to a doting wife—slippers in one hand and bacon and eggs in the other.’
She swallowed the last of the cheese and went to sleep, and not even the flute or Mrs Grimes’ loud voice could wake her.
The professor got into his car, and as he drove away his bleep sounded. He was wanted back at St Luke’s; one of the injured had developed signs of a blood clot on the brain. So instead of going home he went back and spent the next few hours doing everything in his power to keep his patient alive—something which proved successful, so that in the early afternoon he was at last able to go home.
He let himself into his house, put his bag down and trod into the sitting room, to come to a halt just inside the door.
‘Anneliese—I forgot…’
She was a beautiful girl with thick fair hair cut short by an expert hand, perfect features and big blue eyes, and she was exquisitely made-up. She was dressed in the height of fashion and very expensively, too. She made a charming picture, marred by the ill-temper on her face.
She spoke in Dutch, not attempting to hide her bad temper.
‘Really, Ruerd, what am I to suppose you mean by that? That man of yours, Beaker—who, by the way, I shall discharge as soon as we are married—refused to phone the hospital—said you would be too busy to answer. Since when has a consultant not been free to answer the telephone when he wishes?’
He examined several answers to that and discarded them. ‘I am sorry, my dear. There was a bomb; it exploded close to St Luke’s early this morning. It was necessary for me to be there—there were casualties. Beaker was quite right; I shouldn’t have answered the phone.’
He crossed the room and bent to kiss her cheek. ‘He is an excellent servant; I have no intention of discharging him.’ He spoke lightly, but she gave him a questioning look. They had been engaged for some months now, and she was still not sure that she knew him. She wasn’t sure if she loved him either, but he could offer her everything she wanted in life; they knew the same people and came from similar backgrounds. Their marriage would be entirely suitable.
She decided to change her tactics. ‘I’m sorry for being cross. But I was disappointed. Are you free for the rest of the day?’
‘I shall have to go back to the hospital late this evening. Shall we dine somewhere? You’re quite comfortable at Brown’s?’
‘Very comfortable. Could we dine at Claridge’s? I’ve a dress I bought specially for you…’
‘I’ll see if I can get a table.’ He turned round as Beaker came in.
‘You had lunch, sir?’ Beaker didn’t look at Anneliese. When the professor said that, yes, he’d had something, Beaker went on, ‘Then I shall bring tea here, sir. A little early, but you may be glad of it.’
‘Splendid, Beaker. As soon as you like.’ And, when Beaker had gone, the professor said, ‘I’ll go and phone now…’
He took his bag to his study and pressed the