A Little Moonlight. Бетти Нилс
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Dr ter Feulen drew up a chair and sat down opposite to her, wishing her an austere good evening as he did so.
‘Good evening, sir,’ said Serena, and added in a businesslike voice, ‘I haven’t finished your letters. Do you want me to take them anywhere for you to sign?’ She glanced at the clock and added tartly, ‘I’ll be another fifteen minutes, provided I’m not interrupted.’
‘I am interrupting you, but for a good reason, Miss Proudfoot. I have been to see Miss Payne. She has decided to retire and I have come to offer you her job.’
Serena stared at him, her eyes round with amazement. ‘Me? Do Miss Payne’s work? I couldn’t possibly! She never uttered a word, you said, and I grumble—besides, you don’t …’ She paused and went a rather pretty pink.
‘Like you?’ He studied her face, alight with surprise and near-panic, and reflected that a few similar shocks would do much to improve her looks. ‘Liking has very little to do with it. Let me tell you something, Miss Proudfoot. Miss Payne, as you so succinctly put it, never uttered a word at her awkward hours, but she wasn’t afraid of me. You aren’t afraid of me either, are you?’
She thought about it. ‘No, I don’t think I am.’
‘Good. Then that’s settled. You don’t need to see anyone about it, I’ll attend to the details. You will be better paid, of course.’ He got up from his chair. ‘Oh, and I shall be returning to Holland in two weeks’ time. I have a series of lectures to give and as I’m a consultant at several hospitals there I shall be operating for several weeks. I am also writing a book. I shall want you with me, of course.’
Serena was speechless, while a variety of feelings engulfed her. To travel; see a little of the world, even if it was only a few hundred miles across the North Sea, meet people—she would need new clothes. She said in a bemused voice, ‘Aren’t you coming back here?’
‘Of course. Most of my work is here.’
‘Surely you can’t write a book and operate and lecture, not all at once?’
‘Yes, I can, and I shall expect you to type notes, letters and whatever, answer the phone, check my appointments and type my book. Miss Payne could and did; I see no reason why you shouldn’t do it too—you’re a good deal younger, for a start.’
Serena frowned. Miss Payne was obviously nearing retirement age, so to be told that she was a good deal younger wasn’t much of a compliment. Dr ter Faulen read the frown unerringly. ‘You are twenty-five, half a lifetime younger than Muriel …’
‘Muriel? Oh, Miss Payne. Well, may I think about it? I mean, I’d have to …’ She stopped suddenly and a look of dismay on her face caused him to go back to his chair and sit down again. His ‘Well?’ was uttered with just the right amount of interest and sympathy.
‘I can’t. Truly, I can’t. You see, there’s Mother …’
‘Widowed?’ and when she nodded, ‘She is ill?’
‘No, just—well, just—delicate.’
‘Why is that? She has a heart condition? A chest condition? Diabetes? Arthritis?’ He fired the words at her and she blinked.
‘No, no, nothing like that. She suffers from nerves, she finds it difficult to do things …’
‘Housework, shopping and so forth?’
‘Yes.’
He sighed gently. Selfish widows with loving daughters were still only too common, and this small, neat girl with the beautiful eyes deserved something more in life. He said slowly, ‘In that case we might kill two birds with one stone. Miss Payne, when she accompanied me, had lodgings close to the hospital and came to work just as she did here. There is no reason why your mother should not accompany you and stay at these same lodgings. I shall be in Amsterdam for most of the time, and there is plenty to see and do there.’
‘She doesn’t understand Dutch—nor do I.’
‘My dear girl, almost everyone in Holland speaks English.’
He watched excited hope chase away the dismay. ‘Oh, do you really mean that?’
‘I always say what I mean. Go home and talk it over with your mother and let me know tomorrow morning.’
He got up for a second time and this time, with a nod and a casual goodnight, went away.
She finished her work, tidied her desk and wondered what she should do with the sheaf of letters waiting to be signed. She was hesitating whether to phone the consultants’ room when the head porter rang up. She was to leave everything with him and Dr ter Feulen would collect his letters later.
She handed in her work and hurried to catch her bus, rehearsing what she would say to her mother. Her spirits sank as she neared home—her mother would never consent to the upheaval in her well-ordered life. She let herself into her home, resigned to disappointment but all the same determined to do her best to persuade her parent that a change of scene would do her a great deal of good.
She cast off her outdoor things in the hall and went into the sitting-room.
Her mother was sitting at her writing desk, pen poised. ‘There you are, darling. What splendid news—I’ve had such a long chat on the telephone with Dr ter Feulen. He sounds a delightful man—apologised for keeping you so late and told me how much he depends upon your assistance. And this marvellous job you’re to take over, and going to Holland too! I can hardly wait. He is of the opinion that a change of scene is just what is needed for someone as delicate as I am.’
Her mother paused for breath and Serena said in a voice she strove to keep calm, ‘He rang up? So you know all about it? And you’d like to go? It won’t be too much for you, Mother?’
‘Certainly not! It will probably take a few days for me to get over the journey, but I will willingly tire myself out for you, darling. I’m making a list of the clothes I shall need … Have you had supper? I’ve been so busy … Could you get us something now? I must keep up what strength I have.’ She looked at Serena. ‘You look a bit white, dear. You need a meal too, I dare say.’
‘Mother, I haven’t said I’d take the job yet.’
Her mother gave her an outraged look. ‘Darling, why ever not? What a funny little thing you are! Why ever not?’
‘I wasn’t sure if you would like the idea.’
Her mother laughed. ‘Darling, I love the idea! Tell me, how old is this Dr ter Feulen?’
‘I don’t know—about thirty-five or -six, I should think.’
‘Married?’
‘I’ve no idea.’ A fib, and she wasn’t sure why she had said it.
‘Well, we’re bound to get to know a lot of people in Amsterdam. Pour me a glass of sherry, will you, Serena? I need the stimulant.’
There was little opportunity to think her own thoughts that evening. Mrs Proudfoot made plans, discussed clothes and speculated as to the pleasures in store.
‘Mother, it won’t be quite like a holiday,’ Serena warned carefully. ‘I shall be working very hard every day, so you’ll be on your own for a great deal of the time.’
‘I’m on my own every day now, darling, and deadly boring it is too. If only I had your health and strength.’
They got to bed at last, and Serena lay awake for a long time wondering if she had done the right thing, or rather if the right thing had been done for her, for she had had little say in the matter.
She wasn’t sure if she was pleased at the doctor’s intervention either. He had forced her hand and there was no going back now, for her mother was determined to go. All the same, when she saw him in the morning she would tell him that he had no right to interfere. On this firm resolution she at last