Not Once But Twice. Betty Neels
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time, you know. I came to London when my parents died and took the job I have got now. Before then I was living near Yeovil. I worked at the hospital there, but I trained at Bart’s.’
They had stopped to watch an old man feeding the birds and presently Dr ter Brandt said: ‘The post I have to offer you is that of Third Sister in the Accident Department at the Theofilus Hospital. We operate three shifts in the twenty-four hours, and you would be expected to work each shift in turn. You would have two days off each week, six weeks’ holiday in the year and for the first few months at least, attend classes in Dutch. You may live in the hospital if you wish or rent rooms or a flat close by.’ He mentioned a salary which, changed into English money, seemed generous.
‘But perhaps the cost of living is higher?’ asked Christina, sensibly.
‘About the same, I think.’
She said composedly: ‘I may apply for the post?’
‘Yes. I have an application form with me, which we will fill in presently. The post is vacant now, but of course you will have to resign—a month, I take it?’
The old man had gone and so had the birds. A cool wind rustled the trees around them and a few leaves fluttered on to the grass. Christina said in her sensible way: ‘I have more than two weeks’ holiday due to me, which means that I can leave in about ten days’ time.’
‘That would suit us very well.’ He paused and added thoughtfully: ‘But of course you would like to stay here until your brother’s marriage?’
‘No.’ Her voice was level and quiet. ‘That doesn’t matter. I should explain that my brother and I are very fond of each other and we get on very well. I’m delighted that he’s marrying, but his fiancée and I—well, we don’t get on very well. I think it might be easier for all of us if I’m not at the wedding.’ She added slowly, ‘We haven’t quarrelled or anything like that, but George Henry feels a bit mean because I’m having to find somewhere else to live and it would be a good thing if I’m not there to remind him…’
The doctor’s smile was kind. ‘I’m sorry, but thank you for telling me; I’m sure it’s a sensible solution. These unfortunate occasions do arise, but I’ve found that time does much to improve them.’
‘That’s what I thought. By the time I get back to England it will be forgotten.’ They had been strolling along, but now she stopped. ‘I’ve taken up your afternoon, Dr ter Brandt. If there’s nothing more I need to know, I’ll say goodbye. I’m sure I can manage the form and I’ll get the references and send them on to you.’
For answer he took her arm. ‘A cup of tea, I think, and we can fill in the form at the same time.’
He walked her back across the park and into Piccadilly, crossed the street and ushered her through the splendid entrance of the Ritz. ‘Tea here?’ she asked uncertainly.
‘It’s the nicest place I know of for tea,’ he told her as they were led to a table by the window.
Christina had gone past the hotel many times since she had been in London, but never been inside. It was splendid and elegant and everything she had imagined it would be, and she was glad that she was wearing the grey suit; there wasn’t a pair of denims in sight, the atmosphere was peaceful and restful, and having taken it all in she said forthrightly: ‘This is delightful. I’ve often wondered what it was like inside, and now I know.’
And when the tea came she poured it with a dignified self-assurance which gave the lie to Adam’s theory that she might feel ill at ease in such plushy surroundings. The doctor, plying her with wafer-thin cucumber sandwiches, little iced cakes and tiny meringues, looked at her with approval. She was no fool, this rather plain girl with the lovely eyes; she had a delightful voice and nice manners and a sensible head on her shoulders. And he liked the way she dressed too. She had a good figure and small, well kept hands. After a time, he mused, one forgot her lack of looks and probably, given enough incentive, she could improve on those.
He had an uneasy feeling that Adam was going to provide that incentive, and although, as he had said before, she seemed capable of looking after herself, she was too honest and nice a girl to be hurt. Of course, Adam might be serious about her; she was so very different from the usual kind of girl he fell in love with, it might be possible. Time would tell.
He asked casually: ‘Are you meeting Adam this evening, Christina?’
She shook her head. ‘No, he’s got a lecture and he had to catch up on something he missed—and tomorrow he has a study day at Birmingham.’
The doctor sat back, his eyes on her face. ‘I have to stay in London until tomorrow evening. Perhaps we might have lunch together, then if there are any snags or problems we can sort them out.’
‘Thank you, I should like that.’ Her gaze met his and she smiled. ‘Should I fill in that form?’
They did it together, laughing a little while Christina tried to remember dates and how tall she was and the exact date upon which she had started her training. It was finished at last and she was surprised to find that they had been sitting over their tea for more than an hour. And she had enjoyed herself; her companion had turned out to be nicer than she had expected; rather reserved, perhaps, but he must be a good deal older than Adam. He would be comfortably married, of course; she had taken that for granted. She would have like to have asked him if he had any children, but she had already formed the impression that his private life was very much his own business.
They took a taxi back to George Henry’s house after that, but the doctor, politely opening the door for her, refused her invitation to come in, pleading an evening engagement and wishing her a pleasantly impersonal goodbye as he went. Christina stood in the hall, listening to the coughs and murmurs coming from the waiting room, already stuffed with the evening surgery patients. She felt as though a door, briefly opened on to another world, had been gently but inexorably closed again.
‘It’s not my world anyway,’ she reminded herself sensibly, and went upstairs to change the grey suit for a skirt and jumper and then went along to the kitchen to see about supper.
Hilary came that evening and displayed an unflattering amazement that anyone should want to take Christina to the Ritz for tea. She said, her rather prominent blue eyes narrowed: ‘Well, really, whatever next? Was he trying to impress you?’
Christina considered the question. ‘No—he’s not that kind of man. I think it was because the Ritz was close by and it was tea time and I had to fill in a form. We had to have a table, you see.’
Hilary gave her a suspicious glance, but Christina appeared to be serious, so she gave a reluctant nod. ‘Dead set on this job, aren’t you? Supposing you hate it when you’re there?’
Christina allowed herself a silent giggle. Hilary’s face showed very plainly that she wished she hadn’t said that; supposing Christina said that she would return home and expect to live with her and George Henry until she found another job to suit her? She said gently: ‘Well, you know, Hilary, I’m a bit slow about making up my mind about places and people—other people know within seconds if they like something or someone, but not me.’ She remembered very clearly that she had known within a second that she liked Adam, but of course there was always the exception to every rule… ‘I shall enjoy the experience,’ she finished.
Hilary agreed with eager enthusiasm and hardly concealed her pleasure when Christina mentioned that it wasn’t likely that she would be at the wedding. George Henry, Christina decided, must be very in love not to notice, but that was a good thing. She was a firm believer in love, herself unloved.
‘You won’t come back,’ observed Hilary in a satisfied voice.
‘Probably not, and certainly not to London.’ Christina beamed at them both. ‘Have you decided what you would like for a present?’ she asked.
Dr ter Brandt came for her at noon the next day, keeping the taxi waiting outside while he chatted amiably with George Henry, who had just come in from an emergency call. Which