Heidelberg Wedding. Betty Neels
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She looked over his shoulder straight into Mr Grenfell’s interested gaze.
He was with his fiancée; Eugenia recognised her at once, slim as a wand, not a hair out of place, perfect make-up and a dress such as she could never hope to possess. She gave him a cool smile and he opened his sleepy eyes and smiled back and then circled away. She noticed that he danced with the kind of nonchalant ease which reflected the way in which he did everything else.
Humphrey executed a correct turn. ‘I see Mr Grenfell’s here. That’s a remarkably pretty girl—she’s his fiancée, is she? I suppose she is. I must say he’s taken his time, he must be thirty-five if he’s a day.’
Eugenia said naughtily: ‘Perhaps he’s saving up…’
Humphrey’s sense of humour wasn’t quite a hundred per cent. ‘Oh, certainly not that; he’s very well off, I believe, one might say wealthy. Family money, you know.’
‘No, I didn’t know,’ Eugenia told him, ‘I’ve never been interested enough to think about it.’
He gave her hand a gentle squeeze. ‘You’re far too sensible a girl,’ he observed approvingly.
And that from Humphrey was a compliment.
Mr Grenfell, Eugenia was quick to observe, was at a table for two not so very far from their own table. After discovering that, she took great care not to look in that direction again, and since Humphrey declared that he was too tired to dance again and had a hard day ahead of him they left very shortly afterwards. Eugenia would have liked to have stayed until the small hours, but Humphrey needed his sleep, she knew that; his mother had explained at great length that unless he had his proper rest his health would suffer. She had stifled the remark that if that were the case, it would have been far better if he had never taken up medicine, a profession where sleep was sometimes sketchy to say the least, but she had agreed mildly, being a kind girl and wishing Mrs Parsons might like her and treat her as a daughter.
She got up at once and went to get her coat, and five minutes later was being driven back to St Clare’s. And once there, their goodnights were swiftly said—not that Humphrey’s kiss was not entirely satisfactory, but he showed no signs of lingering, only said briskly: ‘Get to bed, dear—you need a good sleep and so do I.’
All the same, she tried to keep him for a few minutes longer.
‘It was a lovely evening, Humphrey—I wish we could do it more often.’
‘Now don’t get ideas into your head!’ He was half laughing at her. ‘I’m not Grenfell, you know.’ He added slowly: ‘I must say his girl’s a charmer. Not that you’re so bad yourself—you could do with losing a few pounds, though. I’ll work out a diet for you.’ He patted her on a shoulder and got back into the car to take it round to the hospital garage, leaving her gibbering with rage. He had called her fat—not in so many words, but that was what he’d meant, and she wasn’t—her weight was exactly right for her size and her curves were in all the right places. She went slowly through the hospital on the way to her room, feeling miserable. She wanted to please Humphrey, so she supposed she would go on to the diet, although she thought that for a young woman of her size, extreme slenderness would look all wrong; she was a big girl, walking proudly and unselfconsciously, but she had the frame to take a nicely rounded body, wouldn’t she look silly if she were straight up and down, both back and front! She tumbled into bed and fell asleep with the problem unsolved.
She woke once in the night and remembered that she had forgotten to tell Humphrey that she wouldn’t be able to get off on Friday afternoon—she must remember to tell him in the morning.
She saw him briefly just after breakfast. He looked very handsome in his white coat and grey suit, and well turned out, but then he always did; he considered it important that he should look his best at all times. Eugenia had just taken the report and was noting the day’s work when he came down the ward and into her office, to give her a wry smile and say appreciatively, ‘You look nice—very neat too. Uniform suits you, Eugenia.’
She pushed her work on one side. ‘Compliments so early in the morning? You’ll turn my head! Do you want to see someone?’
‘Only you. I’ve written out a diet for you—you should lose at least half a stone in a month—it’s easy enough to follow even on the hospital food.’
Eugenia cast a quick eye down his neat writing. Of course it was easy to follow; all she had to do, as far as she could see, was drink milkless tea and eat oranges and lettuce. ‘Where’s the protein?’ she asked.
He leant over the desk. ‘Here—fish and the odd ounce of cheese and a potato every other day.’
‘I’ll give it a whirl,’ she told him. ‘But if you get me on Women’s Medical with anorexia nervosa, you’ll be to blame.’
He laughed. ‘You’ll be a knockout! You’ll have to take in the seams of your dress for the Spring Ball.’
She said seriously: ‘Oh, no—I shall buy a new one.’
He frowned. ‘That’s absurd—a new dress for just one dance…’
Eugenia nodded her beautiful head briskly. ‘That’s right—and now I really must do some work.’ She smiled enchantingly at him. ‘And when I’ve given out the post I’ll weigh myself.’
It was half an hour before she was back in the office. Giving out the morning’s post was by way of being a social round as well; she had already been to see the ill patients and wished the ward a general good morning, but now she went slowly from bed to bed, handing out letters, listening to complaints, gossiping gently, taking care to stay a little longer with those who had no post that day, staying even longer by the beds of the ill patients, making sure that everything was just as it should be.
Harry would be round presently and there were several patients to go to X-ray, quite a few for physiotherapy and two to be got ready to go home.
She sat down at the desk to check the operation list for the next day and check the list of admissions too. Besides that, she would have to rearrange the off-duty for Friday if Mr Grenfell intended to do a teaching round.
She was nibbling the end of her pen, frowning over this, when the door opened and Mr Grenfell walked in. ‘I did knock, but you didn’t hear,’ he observed mildly. ‘I’d like to take another look at that girl, if I may.’
He sat down on the edge of her desk and cast his eyes casually over its contents. Humphrey’s diet sheet was still lying there and he picked it up.
‘Good God, who’s this for? A bit drastic, isn’t it? I didn’t know any of my patients were on a diet.’ His eyes were suddenly frosty.
‘They’re not, sir, it’s for me,’ and at his enquiring look: ‘Humphrey thinks I’m overweight…’
Mr Grenfell said strongly: ‘Bunkum and balderdash, does he want you to fade away? You’re perfectly all right as you are.’
Eugenia said seriously: ‘Well, I’m the right weight for my size—you must have noticed that I’m—well, big.’ She sighed. ‘Most women these days are awfully slim, like wands.’
‘So I’ve noticed.’ He tore the diet sheet across and got up. ‘You can tell your Humphrey what I’ve done. Now shall we take a look at this girl—Barbara, isn’t she? Any news as yet as to who stabbed her?’
‘None, sir, and she refused to say a word to anyone about it.’
He grunted deeply to himself, and when they reached the girl’s bed, spent ten minutes there, joined by Harry, who had been warned that his chief was on the ward. Eugenia stood impassively while they examined Barbara, doing everything expected of her with a minimum of fuss. At length Mr Grenfell drew himself up to his great height. ‘I think we’re out of the wood.’ He took Barbara’s hand in his and smiled kindly at her. ‘You’re going to be all right, my dear, although you won’t feel quite yourself for another few days. I’ll see you again in a