NO NEED TO SAY GOODBYE [070-011-4.0]

By: BETTY NEELS

Synopsis:

Romance novel.




Dear Reader,

Looking back over the years, I find it hard to realise that twenty-six
of them have gone by since I wrote my first book--Sister Peters in
Amsterdam.  It wasn't until I started writing about her that I found
that once I had started writing, nothing was going to make me stop-and
at that time I had no intention of sending it to a publisher.  It was
my daughter who urged me to try my luck.

I shall never forget the thrill of having my first book accepted.  A
thrill I still get each time a new story is accepted.  Writing to me is
such a pleasure, and seeing a story unfolding on my old typewriter is
like watching a film and wondering how it will end.  Happily of
course.

To have so many of my books re-published is such a delightful thing to
happen and I can only hope that those who read them will share my
pleasure in seeing them on the bookshelves again .  and enjoy reading
them.


NO NEED TO SAY GOODBYE

BY BETTY NEELS

MILLS <sl BOON8


CHAPTER ONE

it should have been the quietest hour or so of the night in the
hospital, when the ill and the not so ill slept, the accident centre
was temporarily quiet and the busy nurses could pause for a snack meal
or a cup of, tea.  Tonight, as so often happened, an ambulance with its
flashing lights brought the staff nurse to her feet, ready to meet the
ambulance man as he got to the doors.

"Coronary," he told her briefly.

"In a bad way, too."

The nurse nodded, said over her shoulder to the student nurse on duty
with her, "Get hold of Sister Payne, tell her it's a coronary, ask her
to come," and then she went out to the ambulance.

So it was that Sister Louise Payne, sitting at her desk in her office,
her shoes off, a mug of tea at her elbow, and writing the beginnings of
the report, put down her pen with a little sigh as the phone rang,
lifted the receiver, listened with composure, said with calm, "I'll be
down at once.  Nurse.  Go back to Staff and help her.  I'll get hold of
Dr.  Giles," and dug her feet into her shoes once more.

Dr.  Giles, the medical officer on duty, had just got to his bed; he
grunted his displeasure at being roused from the brief snooze he had
hoped for and, in answer to Sister Payne's firm voice telling him that
she would meet him in the accident room, grunted again.  She put down
the receiver, knowing that despite the grumbles he would be there, and
took herself off to the accident room.

Staff Nurse was glad to see her; the man was in a bad way and she
hadn't had much experience of coronaries; Sister Payne took over
without a fuss, and when Dr.  Giles arrived, trousers and sweater over
his pyjamas, they worked together.

"Who is Jie?"  asked Dr.  Giles, not pausing in his work.

Sister Payne didn't pause either.

"Staff?"  she asked without turning round.

"The ambulance was called by someone who saw him lying in the street.

A Mr.  Tom Cowdrie.  They found an envelope in a coat pocket.  I've not
had time.  "

"No, of course you haven't.  Staff."  Sister Payne's glance flickered
briefly towards Dr.  Giles.

"Ted, it's the MP... Staff, get the police, will you?  Ted should you
get Dr.  van der Linden?"

"Yes.  Could Staff take over?  Nurse can get the police, can't she?" He
looked down at their unresponsive patient.

"No, better not--I'll stay here.  Let Staff take over from you.  You
telephone."

Sister Payne nodded her approval and sped to the phone, dialled a
number and waited.  The voice in her ear was tinged with irritation, to
be expected at three o'clock in the morning, but her own remained
admirably calm.  She didn't waste time in apologies.

"A Mr.  Tom Cowdrie has just been brought in--the MP.  A coronary.  Dr.
Giles would be glad of your advice, sir."

"Ten minutes," said the voice in her ear, and the line went dead.

If any one had had the leisure to look at the clock they would have
noted that it was, in fact, nine minutes later when the senior medical
consultant of St.  Nicholas's Hospital came silent-footed into the
accident room.  He was a massive man, well over six foot and heavily
built, with fair hair already silvered and splendid good looks with a
high-bridged nose, a firm mouth and blue eyes half hidden by their
heavy lids.  He was wearing a thin polo-necked sweater and trousers,
but no one looking at him would have known that he had been wakened
from a deep sleep, driven his car for the mile through London's streets
which separated his house from the hospital, and still contrived to
look as though he was on the point of doing an unhurried ward round.

He nodded to Dr.  Giles, smiled briefly at Sister Payne and bent over
the patient, at the same time listening to Dr.  Giles's brief resume.

He nodded his approval, while issuing his orders in a manner which
allowed of no hanging around by his supporters.  Whoever was on call in
X-ray was to be roused, so too whoever was on night duty in the path
lab.

"And, Ted, if the police are here, give them Mr.  Cowdrie's
address--his wife must be told.  Deal with it, will you?"

Dr.  van der Linden had dragged off his sweater, the better to deal
with his patient.

"Warn intensive care.  Sister, will you?  As soon as he's fit to move,
we will get him up there."

It was more than an hour later when Mr.  Cowdrie was borne carefully
away to the intensive care unit; Sister Payne watched Dr.  van
derLinden's broad shoulders disappear through the door after the
trolley, listened with sympathy to Ted Giles's rueful comment that
there wasn't much point in going back to his bed, made sure that the
nurses in the accident room were starting on the clearing up, and went
tiredly up to her office; it was very nearly time for her early morning
round, and she still had the report to write.  Mr.  Cowdrie's wife had
arrived, but so far hadn't seen her husband; Dr.  van der Linden would
talk to her first, and then in all probability bring her along for
Sister Payne to solace with tea and sympathy.  She penned the report
with the speed of long practice, answered an urgent summons from the
women's medical ward with her usual calm, and was just on her way back
to her office, expecting to have a quick cup of tea before commencing
her rounds, when Dr.  van der Linden bore down upon her with Mrs.
Cowdrie beside him.  Sister Payne paused, stifling an urge to gallop
briskly in the opposite direction; it was all very well for Dr.  van
der Linden; he would in all probability take himself off home to a
couple of hours' sleep and a tasty breakfast cooked by a loving wife.

She greeted him pleasantly and Mrs.  Cowdrie with sympathy; she was a
much younger woman than she had expected, fair and fluffy and nicely
made-up and dressed with care.  Surely, thought Sister Payne, she
wouldn't have stopped to do her face and dress so carefully, knowing
that her husband had just been dragged back from death's door, and even
now, for that matter, had a foot still inside it?

Mrs.  Cowdrie was summing her up, too: a handsome girl, tall and with a
splendid figure, her dark hair a little untidy.  Her large brown eyes
had shadows beneath them from tiredness and her straight nose shone;

all the same, she had a serene beauty which Mrs.  Cowdrie would never
achieve.

Dr.  van der Linden watched her from under hooded lids, his face
without expression.  He said blandly, "Ah, Sister, would you be kind
enough to give Mrs.  Cowdrie a cup of tea and arrange for a taxi to
take her home presently?  I have explained that she may remain here if
she wishes, but she would prefer to go home."

There were still fifteen minutes before she needed to start the morning
round; Sister Payne murmured suitably and led Mrs.  Cowdrie away to sit
in the office and drink her tea, but only after that lady had taken a
fulsome farewell of Dr.  van der Linden.

"I really must go back home," she explained to Sister Payne.

"I sleep very badly, you know, and this has upset me.

I shall spend the day in bed.  "

"Your husband is very ill..."  began Louise carefully.

"There is a rest room here, if you care to stay?"

"Well, there is nothing I can do, is there?  I have to think of my own
health, Sister.  Do you suppose that he will recover?"

Louise hid shock behind a calm face.

"I really don't know, Mrs.  Cowdrie.  That is for Dr.  van der Linden
to tell you."

Mrs.  Cowdrie put down her cup and saucer.

"He's quite something, isn't he?  I'll be off, thanks for the tea." She
looked round the office.

"Is this where you spend your nights?  I suppose you knit or read to
pass the time?"

She was quite serious; Sister Payne said quietly, "I do have things to
do..."  She telephoned for a taxi and escorted the lady to the hospital
entrance, then turned her steps in the direction of the men's medical
ward, to start her round.  The intensive care unit first.  Mr.  Cowdrie
had a good chance of recovery, she considered.  She frowned;

Mrs.  Cowdrie had taken his sudden illness very coolly-what wife worth
her salt would worry about her lack of sleep at such a time, let alone
go back home until her husband had been declared safely out of
danger?

She met Dr.  van der Linden at the door, on his way out, and he paused
to speak to her.  They had known each other for some time now, and
maintained a pleasant, rather cool relationship, each respecting the
other without showing interest.  They might, on occasion, hold a brief
conversation about the weather or some similar impersonal topic, and at
the hospital ball he would dance with her once, something he was
obliged to do in common courtesy, but for the most part their talk was
strictly professional, concerning the patients.

"Mr.  Cowdrie should do.  Sister.  I've left instructions with Staff
Nurse.  Let me know if you're not happy with anything."  He glanced at
his watch.

"You will be handing over within another hour or so?"

He nodded unsmilingly, and walked rapidly away, doubtless to his bed,
thought Louise enviously, and then reflected that, unlike her, he had a
ward round in a few hours' time, whereas, once the house was quiet, she
would be able to sleep.

She was a little late going off duty, since she had to give a lengthy
report to the day sister on intensive care.  The March morning,
although bright, was chilly; she paused at the entrance to shiver.  The
streets around the hospital were already teeming with traffic and the
buses would be full.

The big door swung open behind her and Dr.  van der Linden came to a
halt beside her.

"I'll give you a lift," he said pleasantly.

"Kind of you, sir, but I can get a bus..."

"Yes, I know."  He touched her arm.

"The car is over here."

A Jaguar XJS, sleekly elegant and powerful.  He ushered her into the
front seat and got in beside her.

"Fourteen, Bick Street, Horton, isn't it?"

She wondered how he knew, but said nothing, only, "You must be going
out of your way."  And, when he didn't reply, "This is very kind of
you."

Bick Street was almost in Islington; she supposed one would call it
shabby genteel, with its facing rows of small villas, brick built and
ugly and with mod cons which had been mod at the turn of the century.

Dr.  van der Linden drew up soundlessly before number fourteen, and its
front door was flung open to allow three people and a dog to emerge.  A
girl, small and fair and pretty, a schoolgirl, fair, too, but a good
deal taller and not as pretty, though still worth a second glance, and
a schoolboy with sandy hair and glasses on his nose.  The dog stayed
with him, behind the girls; it was a smooth-coated type with a plumy
tail and very large pointed ears.

There were no gardens before the houses; they crossed the pavement and
peered at Louise through the ear windows.  The doctor obligingly opened
the window and said, "Good morning."

Louise said, "My sisters, Zoe and Christine, and my brother, Michael,
and Dusty."

They chorused their how do you dos, and Dusty barked a brief
greeting.

"Dr.  van der Linden kindly gave me a lift."  Louise spoke briefly, and
made to get out.  Dr.  van der Linden got out, too, and opened her
door.

"A pleasure, Sister Payne," he said formally, then got in again and
drove away with a vague wave of the hand.

The little group went into the house.

"I say, Louise, do you work for him?  Aren't you lucky?"  It was Zoe
who spoke.

"And I spend my days at that dreary old typing school."

Louise was in the hall, taking off her coat.

"Well, dear, it's only for another week or two, then you can get a
smashing job with a film producer or stockbroker or something."  She
followed the others into the kitchen.

"I don't work for him--he's a consultant.  I only see him if he comes
in for something urgent."

"All the same, he drove you home..."

"Well, we met at the door."  Louise spoke absent-mindedly, turning over
the few letters the postman had brought.

"Chris--Mike, are you ready for school?  Away with you, my dears-see
you at teatime.  Have a good day."

Alone with Zoe, she sat down at the kitchen table.  She was too tired
to eat much, but Zoe made fresh toast and another pot of tea, and sat
with her for a while until it was time for her to leave the house,
too.

"I'm back early this afternoon," she said as she got her coat, 'so
leave everything, Louise.  You look as though you need a good sleep.
"

Alone, Louise finished her toast, poured another cup of tea and opened
her letters.  Presently she would wash her dishes-the others had
already done theirs-let Dusty out into the strip of garden behind the
house, have a bath and go to bed.  For two years now, ever since their
mother's death, when she had taken over the reins of the household,
they had kept to a routine which on the whole worked very well.  The
three younger children kept the house tidy, made their beds and laid
tables and washed up, and, on her nights off duty each week, she
cleaned the little house, did the week's shopping and saw to the
washing and as much of the ironing as possible.  It left little time
for leisure, but at least they were together and had a home.  There was
no money, of course; just sufficient to live decently, and tucked away
in the bank was the small capital her father had left, enough to send
Mike to university when the time came.

They were lucky to have a home, however shabby, she reflected,
unfolding the first of her letters.

It was typewritten, from their landlord, who had rented them the house
when her father had had to go into hospital and her mother, knowing
that his illness was terminal, had moved to London, lock, stock and
barrel, not to mention her four children, so that they might be near
him.  When he had died they had stayed on because Louise was half-way
through her training, and her mother, with some help from her, could
just about manage to make ends meet.  When her mother had died, two
years previously, they had stayed on; Louise had a safe job, Zoe would

soon be working and helping out with the housekeeping and the younger
ones were doing well at school, although Louise wasn't too happy about
the schools.  Sensibly, she didn't allow herself to worry about the
future.  It was important to get the two younger ones through their
exams; only then would she decide what was best to be done.  It was
obvious to her that, even if she met a man she would like to marry, he
would jib at having to provide for her brother and sisters and, whereas
while she had been training and her mother was still alive, she had
never lacked for invitations from the housemen at the hospital, they
had cooled off when they had discovered later that she now had
responsibility for the upbringing of the family.  She didn't blame
them, and if she REGAINED she did it in private, turning a calm face to
the world.

Unfolding the letter, she allowed herself speculation as to its
contents.  Another rise in the rent, she supposed; there had never been
an agreement.  Years ago, when they had first moved there, there had
been what the landlord had called a 'gentlemen's agreement," and when
on her mother's death she had asked him about it, he had assured her
that since this arrangement had been in force for some time there was
no point in altering it.  She had agreed with him, and hadn't even had
a rent book.

A great pity that she had agreed, she reflected, reading his letter.

The house had been sold and the new owner would like to take possession
as soon as possible, and since there was no written agreement and no
lease to expire he would be glad if she could arrange to leave as soon
as she had found suitable accommodation.  The letter ended with a brief
apology--the price he had been offered for the house was too
advantageous to be ignored, and he regretted any inconvenience it might
cause her.

She read the letter through again once more, slowly, in case she had
missed something.  She hadn't--there it was in black and white.  She
got up, cleared the table, washed the china, set the table ready for
their evening meal, let Dusty in from the garden and went upstairs to
run the bath, all the while her tired brain doing its best to wrestle
with the news.  She could get advice, she supposed, but she was pretty
sure that the landlord had the law on his side; it was quite true,
there was no agreement as such, and for all she knew when her mother
had rented the house she might have agreed verbally to leave if asked
to do so.  Bick Street hadn't been much sought after; it was only in
the last year or so that house prices had soared.

She got into bed and, because she was so very tired, fell asleep at
once, to wake in the early afternoon and start worrying again.  She had
no intention of saying anything to the others, not until she had made
quite sure that the landlord was within his rights and, if he was, and
she was pretty sure that he was, she had done some house-hunting.  She
had strong doubts about being able to rent a house and, even if she
could get a council flat, what would happen to Dusty?

She got up, made herself some tea and went into the tiny strip of
garden with the dog.  The daffodil bulbs were showing and there were
late snowdrops in one corner and crocuses as well.  She remembered the
pleasant garden surrounding the house in the country where she had been
born and brought up until her father's illness, and she sighed, but she
had common sense; thinking about the past wasn't going to help the
future.  She went indoors and started to get the high tea they all
shared, and when they were all sitting round the table, discussing the
day, she joined in cheerfully and just as usual, making sure that the
evening routine of dog-walking, homework and small household chores was
in train before she took herself off to work.

It was a busy night with emergency intakes, unexpected crises on the
wards and the intensive care unit full up.  Mr.  Cowdrie had
improved;

Louise, going along to see him, met Dr.  van der Linden bent on the
same errand.

He stopped abruptly, his massive proportions preventing her from
sidling around him with a murmured, "Good evening, sir."

"No sleep?"  he enquired, and, at her surprised look, "No colour, puffy
lids, shadowed eyes.  Something worrying you?"

For a brief moment she toyed with the idea of flinging herself at him
and pouring out her problem; he would be a good, patient listener,
utterly impersonal and probably able to give her sound advice for that
very reason, for he had no interest in her as a person, only as Night
Sister.  The next second she said in her calm way, "No, sir.  I didn't
sleep as well as usual, that's all."

He nodded, stood aside for her to go in and followed her to the first
of the patients, and presently Ted Giles joined them.

There were two more nights before she would be free with nights off,
and she wisely decided to do nothing until she could occupy the whole
of her mind with her personal worries.  She went about her duties in
her usual calm fashion and, although she slept badly, her excuse to her
sisters and brother that she had a cold was accepted without
suspicion.

She left the hospital later than usual after her last night of duty;

Sister Berry, who would take over from her for three nights, had only
recently been made a sister and, although a good nurse, needed a good
deal of bolstering up.  Louise took care that the staff nurses on duty
with her were experienced but all the same she always wrote a rather
more detailed report for her.

Dr.  van der Linden was coming in as she was going out.  His 'good
morning' was preoccupied, but he paused after he had passed her and
retraced his steps.

"Nights off?  You look as though you need them."

He had gone again before she could say anything; she made her way home,
feeling plain and alarmingly desirous of bursting into tears.

In the afternoon, after she had had a nap and done the shopping, she
went along to the two estate agents in the neighbourhood.  Evidently
neither of them had anything to offer her;

indeed, they looked at her askance.  No one rented a house these days,
not when mortgages were so easy to get.  There was one flat, two bed
roomed and excluding rates the rent was rather more than the sum she
earned in a week.  She went back home, prepared the evening meal and
when they had all finished it, cleared the table and told them about
the landlord's letter.

"I'm not sure what we can do," she finished matter-of-factly, 'but
since I pay the rent a month in advance and I've only just paid it, we
have got more than three weeks.  "

"Haven't we any relations?"  asked Mike.

"Only Great-Aunt Letitia, but she washed her hands of Father when he
married Mother.  Don't worry, I'll think of something."  Louise spoke
with such certainty that their relief was evident.

There was not time to talk about it in the morning; she saw them off,
washed up, took Dusty for a brisk walk round the dull streets and came
back to find that the postman had been.  Only one letter, and that
sufficiently official looking for her to hesitate before she opened
it.

She slit the envelope deliberately; there could be no worse news than
that which she had had from the landlord.  It might even be better.  It
was.  The letter, brief and businesslike, sent from Ridgely, Ridgely,
Smith and Ridgley, Solicitors, with an address in the city, informed
her that Miss Letitia Payne, her father's aunt, whom she could barely
remember, had recently died and had left her house at Much Hadham and
her estate, less an annuity to her housekeeper, to her eldest
great-niece, Louise Payne.  If Miss Payne would have the goodness to
call at the above address, matters would be made clear to her.

Louise read the letter again, slowly this time, not quite believing it;
she had never doubted that miracles did happen, but she hadn't expected
one to happen to her.  She read the letter again and then, being a
practical person, got her coat and her purse and went across the street
to the corner shop where there was a telephone box.

In answer to her request to speak to Mr.  Ridgely, a vinegary voice
asked which one.

"Well, I don't suppose it matters, if you could just say that it is
Miss Louise Payne."

From the dry-as-dust voice which came on the line, she supposed that
she was speaking to the most senior of the Mr.  Ridgelys.  It sounded a
little shaky, but assured her that the contents of the letter were, in
fact, true.

"Solicitors, young lady, are not given to levity," said the voice
peevishly.

"So sorry," said Louise, 'but it is a surprise.  Shall I come and see
you today?  "

"By all means.  I shall place your affairs in the hands of Mr.  Gerald
Ridgely, who will apprise you of all the details.  If you could make it
convenient to see him at noon, today?"

She got there with a few minutes to spare;

there had been time for her to change into the suit she had bought at
Country Casuals' sale; it wasn't quite warm enough for the chilly March
day, but she felt well dressed in it.  Her abundant hair she had pinned
neatly into a chignon, and her shoes were well polished.  After all, it
was a momentous occasion, worthy of her best efforts.

The solicitors had rooms in an old house just off Holborn; steep stairs
led her to the first floor, where she found a vinegar-faced and very
thin woman at a desk.  Upon hearing her name, the woman led her
wordlessly to a door at the end of a short passage.

The man who rose to shake her hand was grey-haired and looked as though
he needed a thorough dusting.

"Young Mr.  Ridgely," intoned the thin woman and left them.  Louise
took the chair she was offered, wondering just how old the elder Mr.
Ridgely might be if this was the young one, and dismissed the thought
as frivolous.

"You are Miss Louise Payne?"  The dusty gentleman sounded suspicious.

She opened her bag and produced her birth certificate, thankful that
she had had the wit to bring it with her.  He read it carefully and
slowly, and nodded several times, and then opened the file in front of
him.

"You know of your great-aunt's house and where it is situated?"

"Oh, yes.  Although I haven't been there for a very long time.  My
parents took us there several times when they were alive."  Just in
case he was still suspicious, she added, "A small white house on a
corner with trees around it."

"Just so.  Miss Payne.  There are of course some changes in Much
Hadham;

it is a much sought- after area in which to live, being near enough to
London for those who work here to commute.  You could get a very good
price for the house.  "

Louise shook her head.

"I haven't had a chance to talk it over with my sisters and brother,
but I think they will want to live there-I know I do."

He looked at her over his old-fashioned, gold- rimmed spectacles.

"I

understand that you are a night sister at St.  Nicholas's Hospital? You
will be able to continue your work there if you should decide to live
in your great-aunt's house?  "

"Oh, no.  I would have to find another job-Bishop's Stortford or
Stevenage, I suppose, but it would be marvelous for Christine and
Michael;

they're still both at school and not very happy where they are now.

Zoe, who is nearly nineteen, is just finishing a secretarial course
and, I hope, will get a job.  "

"There is very little money in your great-aunt's estate; she has made
provision for her housekeeper," he glanced at the files, "Miss Wills,
who is already in receipt of her retirement pension."  He coughed
drily.

"The sum of one thousand, four hundred and twenty three pounds, eighty
five pence is available to you; such debts, funeral expenses and so
forth have already been discharged."

Louise, with a bank balance of slightly less than a thousand pence,
managed to restrain her yelp of delight.  She asked, she hoped not too
eagerly, "Is the house furnished?"

"Yes.  I should add that when I was last there, a good deal of it was
too large for the house;

mid-Victorian.  Do you have your own furniture?  "

"Well, yes, not a great deal, but what there is is rather nice--left
from the house where we lived before we came to London."

"Then if I might advise you.  Miss Payne, I should visit your
great-aunt's house--your house, I should say!  It is called Ivy
Cottage, by the way-and decide what you wish to keep; the rest you
might sell and add to your capital.  The money due to you will be paid
into your bank if you will be so good as to let me have particulars of
that before you go.  The house is empty and I will give you the keys
now."

He handed over a bunch of old-fashioned keys, each one labelled.

"If there is anything I can do for you, do not hesitate to let me
know.

Now, if I might have the name of your bank?  "

They parted soberly, because young Mr.  Ridgely would have been shocked
if she had hugged him or danced a jig of pure joy on his Turkish
carpet.  She walked away from the sombre building with her feet upon
air, her head full of a hundred and one ideas, most of them highly
impractical.  It was an occasion for champagne, singing and dancing,
none of which would go down well in High Holborn.  A bus home, she
decided, allowing the sensible side of her nature to get the upper
hand, a strong cup of tea and a good think.

Here fate took a hand: Dr.  van der Linden, going about his own
business on the opposite side of the street, caught sight of her and,
even at that distance, he could see the glow of sheer happiness on her
face.

Intrigued, he crossed over.

"Either you have won the pools or you have accepted an offer of
marriage from a millionaire," he observed, not bothering with a good
morning.

Louise raised her lovely eyes to his.  She was in such a state that it
seemed perfectly natural that he should join her there on the
pavement;

rather like a dream, when the most extraordinary things seemed quite
normal.

"I don't know any millionaires, and I can't afford the pools, but yes,
something quite marvelous has happened."

"In that case, come and tell me all about it."

He didn't wait for her to answer, but took her arm and walked up Grays
Inn Road and turned into Theobald's Road, where he ushered her into a
smart brasserie.

As they went inside, Louise said halfheartedly, "But I must get
home."

"Of course, but you may as well lunch with me now we are here."

It was not yet one o'clock; they had a table for two by the window and
Dr.  van der Linden said, "Whatever it is, you are in no state to order
a meal.  Allow me?"

She would have eaten dry bread and water quite cheerfully; as it was,
she polished off salmon mousse, a cheese souffle of incredible
lightness and fresh pineapple doused in kirsch and whipped cream, all
the while only half listening to her companion's easy flow of small
talk.  It was only when the coffee-tray had been set before them that
he said, "Now, supposing you unburden yourself; it won't seem real
until you do."

She still felt as though she were in a dream, which was perhaps why she
began without preamble.

"I've inherited a house--from a great-aunt I haven't seen in years. The
marvelous thing is this, our landlord actually gave us notice to move
out of our house because it's been sold, and I had no idea what I could
do."  She poured their coffee, beaming at him across the little
table.

"Now we can go to Much Hadham..."

He interrupted her abruptly.

"Much Hadham?  The village near Ware?"

She was still too bemused to notice the abruptness.

"Yes.  It's a small house called Ivy Cottage.  There's a garden, a real
one, not just a dusty strip of grass, and trees, and Mike and Christine
can go to decent schools and Zoe is bound to get a good job..."

"And you?"  he prompted.

The?  No, I mean I, don't I?  I'll get a job at Bishop's Stortford or
Stevenage.  " Her practical mind was beginning to take over again.

"I'm sorry to bore you with all this; you've been very kind.  I think I
was so bowled over that I could have danced a jig in the middle of
Holborn.  You see, it's a miracle..."

His voice was reassuringly matter of fact.

"They do occur."

He gave her an abstracted smile and she said hurriedly, "Thank you for
my lunch, I did enjoy it.  I must be getting back."

He made no effort to detain her, but paid the bill and walked back the
way they had come.  In High Holbom she stopped.

"There is my bus stop..."

He ignored her, and lifted an arm to a passing taxi, put her inside,
closed the door on her with a suave, "Allow me," and paid the driver
and gave her address.  She sat there, too astonished to speak, while
the cab bore her homewards.  He hadn't even said goodbye, she
remembered; he must have been bored out of his mind.  She went a bright
pink at the idea and the cabby, glancing back in his mirror, thought
what a very pretty girl she was.

Dusty was delighted to see her again and, since there was no one else
to talk to, she told him all about it while she hoovered and polished
and hung out lines of washing, impatient for the others to come home.

She had tea ready for them, and over that meal told them the news.

"We would have had to move anyway," she finished, 'but now we will have
a real home of our own and no rent to pay.  "

They sat and stared at her, speechless until Mike let out a whoop of
delight.

"I'll be able to leave this school..."

"So will I," crowed Christine.  Not a demonstrative family by nature,
they hugged each other, talking a good deal of nonsense and making
outrageous plans.  Louise went to the dark little pantry and fetched
out a bottle of sherry she had been saving for Zoe's nineteenth
birthday and opened it, and they sat round, the washing up forgotten,
while she told them her own sensible plans.  They agreed to everything
that she suggested; she was the eldest and a good deal older than they
were, and they had become accustomed to go to her for help and
advice.

If she said that it was the best thing for them to move, then move they
would, and be overjoyed to do it.

On her first morning after her return to night duty, she went to the
office and handed in her resignation; she had always got on well with
the senior nursing officer, and now she was listened to with
sympathy.

"In the circumstances," declared Miss Pritchard, "I can understand that
you have no choice but to move to this house which you have been
left--most fortuitously, I must add.  I shall be very sorry to lose
you.  Sister, and can but hope that you will be able to find another
post near your new home.  You can rely upon me to give you an excellent
reference, and if I can help in any way, I shall be glad to do so."

Her friends at the hospital received her news with mixed feelings; she
was well liked and, moreover, they had all known each other for a
number of years, but they echoed Miss Pritchard's opinion; there was
nothing else for Louise to do.  There was no question of selling the
house at Much Hadham, she would never get sufficient for it to buy
anything similar in London, and in a way, she reflected on her journey
home, it was nice not having to make up her mind about it;
circumstances had done that for her.  She comppsed a letter to the
landlord before she went to bed, and slept soundly for the first time
in days.


CHAPTER TWO

on the first day of Louise's next nights off they all went to Much
Hadham, Dusty, on his best behaviour, going with them.  It was a short
journey and they were there before ten o'clock, walking down the
village street with its charming mixture of sixteenth and
seventeenth-century cottages and large Georgian town houses.  The house
was more or less in the centre of the village, standing cornerwise on
to the junction of a side lane and the main street.  It wasn't large
but, even so, bigger than their house in Horton, and there was, as far
as they could see as they approached it, a sizeable garden.  Louise
unlocked the front door and they crowded in silently, to stand in the
narrow hall and gaze around them.  The passage ran from the front door
to the back, where there was another stout door, and on either side
there were two doors, with a pretty little staircase near the back
door.

After a few moments Louise walked to the back door and opened it.  The
garden was nicely old-fashioned, although neglected, but there was a
fair-sized grass plot, flowerbeds and, along the end wall, what had
been a vegetable patch with the garden shed at one end of it.  Still
silently she led the others into the first room: the kitchen,

with a stone-flagged floor, a very elderly Aga cooker, an old-fashioned
dresser and Windsor chairs around a wooden table.  Its windows
overlooked the garden at the back.

Louise said at once, "Someone to see to the stove; we can paint the
walls and plan to make curtains and polish the furniture..."  She
didn't wait for an answer, but led the way across the hall and opened
another door.  A small room with worn lino on its floor and faded
curtains, but the desk in it was a charming one of rosewood, badly in
need of a polish, with a sabre legged Regency chair drawn up to it, and
there was a library table against one wall, flanked by two matching
chairs.

"Nice," commented Louise, and led her party back into the hall and into
the room facing the small front garden.  It must have been the
drawing-room, they decided, for there were several easy chairs, shabby
but whole, a long case clock and a glass-fronted bookcase, as well as a
pier table under the window.  The carpet under their feet was faded but
still good, if somewhat grubby.

"A good scrub," said Louise as they went into the last room.  The
dining-room, small and rather dark by reason of the gloomy wallpaper
and heavy serge curtains.  But the table at its centre was solid
mahogany, as were the four chairs around it, and there was a sideboard
of the same wood.

They looked at each other and smiled happily and went up the stairs.

The bathroom was almost a museum piece with a bath on claw feet in the
centre of the bare floor, but the geyser above it looked modern enough.
The washbasin was large and, like the bath, white, with brass taps and
a wooden cupboard beneath it concealing a multitude of pipes.  There
was lino on the floor here, too, badly in need of replacement.

There were three bedrooms, one large enough for Zoe and Christine, and
two smaller ones for Mike and Louise, and at the back of the landing a
tiny curved staircase leading to an attic with windows back and
front.

Louise caught Mike's look.

"Once we are in and things have got sorted out, we might turn this into
a room for you, Mike; that would give us a spare room.  What do you all
think of it?  Will you be happy here?"

Their chorus of delight almost deafened her.

"We'll go and find somewhere where we can have coffee.  Then, Mike,
will you check the lights?  Zoe and Christine, you have got the tape
measure?  We shall need curtains everywhere;

I'm going to see if I can get hold of someone to look at that Aga, and
we'll have to have the floors done.  But first we must clean up the
place and polish the furniture; we can use most of it except that big
bed upstairs.  I think there will be enough money to get emulsion and
do the painting--if we all come here on my next nights off, we should
be able to get a good deal done.  We'll have to picnic.  " She
frowned.

"I might be able to find someone in the village who would give us bed
and breakfast..."

A question solved for her, for, when they got back after having coffee,
Miss Wills knocked briskly on the door, introduced herself and
suggested without preamble that they might be glad of her help.

"You intend to live here?  I thought that you might; it is a dear
little house, and so convenient.  If you will allow me, I will point
out what needs to be done."

Which she did, at the same time giving the names and addresses of those
who might undertake the various repairs.  Her sharp eyes swept over the
little group surrounding her.

"I expect you will do your own painting and cleaning?"

Louise nodded.

"Oh, yes.  We haven't much money, but I can see that there are some
repairs which must be done before we can move in.  I can't leave my job
for another three weeks, although I can come down for my nights off."

Miss Wills coughed.

"I have retired, as you must know; my sister and I share a house in the
village.  We do bed and breakfast, but at this time of the year we have
rooms to spare.  You are all welcome to have beds and breakfasts at a
nominal sum."

Louise gazed at the elderly lady facing her;

she had spoken briskly and her severe features had relaxed only
slightly, but Louise sensed that she was being friendly and sincere.

She said, "That is very kind of you.  Miss Wills.  I haven't got things
worked out yet, but I think that we might all come down on my next
nights off and get the house cleaned and begin the painting.  Do you
suppose that it would be too soon if I were to come back tomorrow and
see about carpets and the Aga?  If the floors are done, it will be so
much easier to move the furniture around and bring down what we have in
Horton."

"I don't see why not.  You need Mr.  Baxter for the Aga and Ted Poolley
for the floors--you'll need to do the cleaning and painting first
before he comes, of course, but you could discuss what you need and get
an estimate."

So matters were arranged, and Miss Wills took herself off with a
further recommendation to Louise to let her know if she needed a bed at
any time.

"Well, I must say," declared Louise when she had gone, 'it's as though
our fairy godmother has turned up at last.  "

It seemed as if she were right.  Mr.  Baxter, when she saw him the next
day, undertook to deal with the Aga, put new washers on all the taps
and give the plumbing what he called the 'once over', and Ted Poolley,
a tall, spidery man who had almost nothing to say, agreed to measure up
the kitchen and bathroom floors for a good hard wearing covering and
left a book of samples for carpeting.  Louise wasn't sure if there
would be enough money for that and she said so, whereupon he advised
her to put an advertisement in Mrs.  Potter's newspaper shop window,
and sell anything she didn't want in the house.

She thanked him, went round the place with pencil and paper and found
that there were quite a few tables and chairs, as well as the bed,
which she didn't need.  She wrote out her advertisement before she did
anything else, and took it with her when she went to buy Harpic, liquid
soap and a strong disinfectant.  She bore these back with her and began
a vigorous cleaning session, draped in an old apron she had found
hanging in the kitchen.  She paused for sandwiches and a pot of tea in
the middle of the day and, satisfied with the cleanliness of the
kitchen, started on the bedroom.  She was on her knees poking under the
cupboard when she heard footsteps in the hall below.  Someone come to
inspect the furniture she hoped to sell?  She got to her feet, just in
time to see Dr.  van der Linden open the door wide and come in.

She stood, a deplorable sight in her old apron, her hair tied back
anyhow, her face shining with her efforts, her hands and arms wrinkled
from hot soapsuds, and she gaped at him.

"Whatever are you doing here?"  She added a 'sir' hastily, and closed
her mouth with something of a snap.

"I happened to be passing; I'll give you a lift back."

"But I'm not ready, it's only three o'clock-- I mean to catch the train
that leaves just after five.  It's very kind of you..."

"I don't intend to leave until five o'clock in any case."  He smiled at
her, and she wondered why he looked so amused.

"Oh, you've a patient here?"

"No--at least, not one that I need to visit.  I live here."

Her pretty mouth dropped open once more.

"Live here?  Do you?  In Much Hadham?"

He came right into the room and sat down on a chair.

"Yes.  In the High Street."  He named one of the large
eighteenth-century houses, dignified bow-windowed residences with
splendid doorways, opening straight on to the street, but with large
walled gardens at their backs.

"Well, I never," observed Louise rather inadequately.

"I thought you lived somewhere in London."  She blushed as she spoke,
because it sounded as though she took an interest in his private
life.

He watched the blush with pleasure.

"I have a flat there, but I do my best to spend as much time as
possible here."  He stretched his long legs comfortably.

"Don't let me interrupt your work.  When do you move?"

"Oh, in a week or two; there's quite a lot to be done first, and we can
stay in Horton until the month's notice is up."  She began to wash the
paintwork of the cupboard; it was all very well for her visitor to take
his ease; she needed every minute of her free time if the house was to
be fit to move into.

"Have you found another job?"  he wanted to know.

She gave the cupboard a final wipe, and sat back on her heels to admire
her handiwork.

"Well, I haven't had much time," she pointed out reasonably.

"I

thought I'd try Stevenage; it's a pretty big place, and there's a lot
of industry there and probably the hospital could do with more staff.
"

"But perhaps not a sister's post--will you settle for day duty?"

He spoke idly and she answered him with unthinking frankness.

"Oh, lord, yes.  I'm not going to be fussy.  I shan't have any rent to
pay here; you have no idea, what a fantastic difference that will make;
so I can take anything I'm offered.  I'd rather have a ward, of course,
but I'm not out for promotion; this--' she waved a soapy arm around her
'--is quite the most wonderful thing that has happened to us for ages..
for a long time."

"Since your parents died?"  said Dr.  van der Linden softly.

She scrubbed a windowsill with vigour; her quite wretched tongue,
running away with her like that.  She said 'yes', shortly and added,
"It's a lovely day..."

The doctor's eyes gleamed with amusement.

"Indeed it is.  Do you know anyone living here?"

"No--Well, Miss Wills, who kept house for my great-aunt, she called
yesterday and was very helpful--about plumbers and all that."

"A nice old lady--very respected in the village.  There are some good
schools round and about, but I expect you know that."

"No, I didn't, but I hoped there would be."

Louise put up a wet hand and swept back a lock of dark hair.

"State or private?"

"Both.  Possibly your brother and sister might get scholarships.  Are
they happy where they are at present?"

She was polishing a small toilet mirror on the chest of drawers; it was
apple wood, not valuable but nicely made with a well-fitting drawer
beneath it; with the dust washed off it, it was quite charming.

"They hate it," she told him.

"And you?  You have hated living in Horton?"

She nodded.

"It's been worse for Zoe--she's young and so pretty, and she has had no
fun."

He gave her a thoughtful look; he could only see her profile.  She had
a determined chin; probably she was an obstinate girl, and proud.

"Very pretty," he agreed blandly.

"I have no doubt that she will find a job and friends without any
difficulty.  How long are you going to kneel there, scrubbing?"

"Until five o'clock, Dr.  van der Linden."  Something in her voice
implied that it was time that they got back to their usual relationship
of cool, friendly respect.

He ignored it.

"You don't mind if I call you Louise?  After all, you are not on duty
now."  He didn't wait for her to answer, but got to his feet and
strolled to the door.

"I'll be back here at five o'clock;

we'll have tea and I will drive you back home.  "

He had gone while she was still trying to find a good reason for not
accepting his invitation.

"Well," said Louise indignantly, addressing the empty room, 'it was
more of an order.  " She frowned.

"And I talked too much.  Whatever came over me?"

She attacked the bedside table with unnecessary force; it was an
ordinary white-painted piece of furniture, like the bed, but when the
room was carpeted and curtained and there were flowers and ornaments
around it would do very well.  She worked with a will; by five to five
she was finished and had tidied away the bucket and brush, washed out
the apron, combed her hair and done something to her face.  Her hands
were still red, but at least they were clean and she had nice nails,
well kept and a good shape.  She was locking the back door when Dr. van
der Linden opened the front door and walked in.

"Punctual," he commented pleasantly.

"You bring your disciplined working life into your private living. Very
commendable."

A remark to which for some reason Louise took exception.

At the back of her head had been the vague idea that he would take her
to his house for tea, but she was wrong.  He ushered her into the car
and drove off through the village, and, when they reached Stanstead
Abbots, stopped at Briggens House and ushered her inside its elegant
portals and ordered tea and delicate little sandwiches and
mouth-watering cakes.  She enjoyed it all; all the same she felt
disappointment at not going to his house--after all, it was so close to
Ivy

Cottage.  Perhaps his wife was there--but was he married?  She had
never bothered about his private life before and there was no point in
starting now, she reminded herself smartly, carrying on the kind of
conversation she was in the habit of having with the consultant at the
hospital when they stopped to chat upon occasion.

Dr.  van der Linden watched her face unobtrusively, reading her
thoughts very accurately, while bearing his part in their talk with the
cool pleasantness he exhibited when they met at hospital, so that her
uneasiness subsided; he was, after all, only doing what any
charitable-minded person would do for someone they knew, however
slightly.

Bick Street, despite the neatness of its little houses, was a different
kettle of fish from Much Hadham.  Louise reflected that she wouldn't
feel a spark of regret when they left it.  She voiced her thoughts as
the doctor stopped before her front door.

"I shall be glad to leave here," she said, and turned to thank him for
her lift.  But Zoe had opened the door and was already standing by the
car, her pretty, eager face beaming at them.

"I've just made tea; come and have a cup with us Dr.  van der
Linden?"

Louise began, "Oh, but we've..."

But she was forestalled by his calm, "That would be delightful," and
his speedy removal of his vast person from his car.  He came and opened
the door for her, smiling down at her so that she found it quite
impossible to say anything more.

Inside the house they went into the sitting- room, where signs of their
departure were much in evidence, with packing cases in corners and
books piled tidily.  The tea-tray was on a corner of the table by the
window, and Zoe said, "There is plenty in the pot..."  and raised her
voice to call, Christine, bring that cake Louise made yesterday, and
find Mike; tea is made.  " She smiled at Louise.

"I'll pour, Louise, you look tired.  How come you met Dr.  van der
Linden?"

"He lives at Much Hadham..."

Christine and Mike had joined them.  The three younger members of the
family turned surprised faces to their guest and chorused happily, "How
utterly super--do you live near Ivy Cottage?  Are you married?  Did you
know Great-Aunt Payne?"

Louise's quiet voice brought them all to a halt.

"My dears, I hardly think that Dr.  van der Linden would wish to answer
you."

Zoe said at once, "Oh, sorry, we didn't mean to be rude.  It was
awfully kind of you to bring Louise back, though; it's saved her hours.
Have some of this cake; she is a marvelous cook."

Louise was astonished to see him eat a slice with evident appetite,
after the splendid tea they had had, too.  Of course, he was a very
large man; moreover he was kind; he was probably eating it for fear of
hurting her feelings.  The conversation centred round the trials of
moving house, enlivened by Dusty's antics and Mike's high-flown ideas
as to what he intended to do with the attic at Ivy Cottage.  The doctor
sat back at his ease, listening with interest and occasionally putting
in a question.  It was almost an hour before he rose, saying that he
had an appointment and would have to go.  Louise thanked him again
politely as he took his leave, but it was Zoe who went out to the car
with him, and stood talking by it for a few more minutes.

Louise, glancing out of the window, frowned thoughtfuly.  Dr.  van der
Linden and Zoe seemed taken with each other, but her sister was very
young, he must be almost twice her age.  Besides, he' hadn't answered
their questions, had he?  She supposed that she could find out easily
enough at the hospital if he was married or not, but that was something
she would never do.  In any case, she told herself they were very
unlikely to see much of him; once they had moved the two youngest would
be at school, Zoe would get a job and she would, with luck, have a job
in Stevenage.  With Zoe earning as well as herself, and no rent to pay,
there would be more money;

Zoe would be able to have some pretty clothes and join a tennis club,
get to know young people of her own age.  Louise, her thoughts busy
with the future, turned away from the window and went along to the
kitchen to see what there was for supper.

She made the journey to Ivy Cottage again the next day; she was on duty
that night, but it was worth going for the morning at any rate;

she was sure she would have time to clean out another bedroom, and
perhaps someone would come and buy the bed.

Her hopes were realised; the bedroom was a small room and there wasn't
much furniture in it.  She had washed the paint and cleaned the walls
ready for the painting they would do the next time they came, and was
consulting with Mr.  Baxter about the Aga, when an elderly couple
thumped the knocker.

They had a daughter getting married, they explained, and the bed might
do as a wedding present.  Louise led them upstairs and watched
patiently while they tried the springs, examined the mattress and,
finally, offered her rather less than she had asked.  She accepted
without demur;

the money would come in very handy, and the bed would be out of the
way.  They had a van outside; the bed was dismantled and stowed safely,
and both parties parted on the best of terms, well satisfied.  If the
tables and chairs were sold as easily there would be money enough to
have the kitchen modernised a little: she went straight back to Mr.
Baxter and sounded him out upon the matter.  He had just the thing, he
assured her, some cupboards and shelves someone had ordered and then
cancelled at the last minute.  Going cheap; he mentioned a price well
within her budget and she sighed with relief; something on the floor
and some curtains at the window, and at least one room in the little
house would be ready for use.

She had time for a brief nap before she went on duty, and when Dr.  van
der Linden encountered her as he left the women's medical ward, she
looked her usual self, unshakeably calm and as neat as a new pin.  His
"Good evening.  Sister," was uttered with impersonal politeness before
he went on to discuss with her the condition of one of his patients;
that he had sat and watched her cleaning furniture in an old apron and
with her hair anyhow, smacked of the nonsensical, and from his manner
it seemed plain to her that he had dismissed it from his mind.  And why
not?  common sense demanded of her, while at the same time she felt a
decided peevishness at his lack of friendliness.

She didn't see him again until she was on the point of leaving the
hospital five days later, with the prospect of two nights off duty, her
head full of plans as to what to do first at Ivy Cottage.  The last of
these days fell, most fortunately, on a Saturday, which meant that all
four of them would be able to work there.  The sitting-room, she
decided, as she changed out of her uniform;

if they could do the walls and paintwork, then the carpets could be
laid, and in the meantime she could start on the dining-room.  They
would have to move out of the house in Bick Street in less than a
week's time.  She started downstairs on her way out, deep in thought.

Dr.  van der Linden followed her silent-footed, caught up with her on
the first landing, and asked, "Nights off?  Do you plan to go to Much
Hadham today?  I shall be driving there this morning.  Can I give you a
lift?  Around ten o'clock?"

She had stopped to look at him, tired eyes from her beautiful face
searching his own blue eyes, half hidden under their heavy lids.

"Thank you," she said at length.

"I did intend going there today, and I'd be grateful."

"Good."  He spoke briskly.

"I will be outside your place; if there is anything to take down there,
it can go in the boot."

Too good an opportunity to miss; Louise had a number of cardboard boxes
and plastic bags tidily lined up in the little hall by the time the
doctor arrived.  She had seen Mike and Christine off to school, eaten a
hasty breakfast with Zoe, attended to Dusty's wants, and had a shower,
so that when she opened the door to him she appeared ready for a day's
work at the cottage.  He gave her a searching glance, accepted the
coffee she offered, fended off Dusty's pleased advances, and sat down
for all the world as though he had the morning to waste.  Louise, in a
fever to get on with the manifold jobs awaiting her, and aware that if
she sat still for any length of time she would fall asleep, drank her
own coffee so fast that she scalded her tongue, and then sat watching
him take his time over his own drink.  When they were at last in the
car with her boxes and bags stowed and Dusty, to his delight, on the
back seat--for as Dr.  van der Linden had pointed out he might just as
well spend the day at Ivy Cottage since they would be returning at
around five o'clock and could be conveyed without trouble--he observed
casually that he for his part had not the least objection to her
closing her eyes and taking a refreshing nap.

"Thank you," said Louise frostily, still nettled at his tardiness, "I
am not in the least sleepy."  And, within seconds of saying it, had
nodded off.

At Ivy Cottage he wakened her gently, took the door key from her and
went to open the front door.  He deposited her bundles in the hall and
led Dusty to the safety of the little back garden.  Which gave her time
to become thoroughly awake.  As he ushered her from the car, he
remarked in his calm way, "It is not of the least use advising you to
get on to the nearest bed and sleep, although that is what you need
more than anything else.  Fortunately you are a well-built girl with
plenty of stamina, even if you are of a managing disposition.  I see
Mr.  Baxter is already at work, and Ted Poolley is on his knees
measuring the stairs.  I have put Dusty in the garden."

"You have been very kind.  I am sorry I was snappy, it's just that
there is so much to do..."

"And that reminds me," interpolated the doctor, 'my gardener's grandson
is staying with him--a lad of fifteen or so; he has been helping around
the garden, but there is very little for him to do there at the moment
and he is at a loose end.  You would be rendering me a service by
taking him off his grandfather's hands for an hour or so.  Don't pay
him--he has had his week's wages in advance.  His name is Tim.  "

"But I must pay him..."

"You shall settle up later; don't complicate things at present.  He's a
handy lad; give him some painting to do."

The doctor nodded briefly, and had taken himself off before she could
argue the matter, and five minutes later a tall, skinny youth presented
himself at the door.  He grinned shyly.

"Tim, miss, come to give you a hand."

Louise was no longer tired; a great part of the day was before her, Mr.
Baxter was putting up shelves with the speed of light, Mr.  Poolley was
in the dining-room now, with his ruler and notebook, and here was
willing help.  She beamed at Tim.

"Can you paint?"  she asked happily.

Even with a coffee break, the four of them had got through a prodigious
amount of work by one o'clock: the shelves were up, the cupboards were
in position, the Aga worked and she had decided on the carpeting with
Ted Poolley.  It would make a big hole in the small capital, but she
could econo mise on everything else, and he would get it laid before
they moved in.  The three went to their lunches, and she went into the
garden and sat on a rickety garden seat and shared her sandwiches with
Dusty, who was lolling happily in the unkept grass.

Mr.  Baxter had finished by mid-afternoon;

Louise gave him a cheque and thanked him nicely.

"Do anything for a pretty young lady like you, miss," mumbled Mr.
Baxter.

"Just you send along if you need any jobs done."

"Oh, I will," declared Louise, and beamed widely at him; life at Much
Hadham was going to be a dream after Bick Street.

She made tea for Tim and Ted Poolley, and opened the packet of biscuits
she had had the forethought to bring with her.  The sitting-room was
very nearly finished, and since Ted had promised the carpets would be
laid within the week she would be able to stay at home and make the
curtains.  She saw them off home presently, tidied everything away, did
what she could to tidy her own person and locked up.  Ted had the
second key, and she wouldn't be coming again until her last free day.
She stood by the stout front door and surveyed her house with pride.
Mr.  Baxter had seen to the windows, making them secure, and when they
all came in a couple of days' time, they would clean windows.  She
sighed with content and turned round in time to see the doctor's Jaguar
slide to a halt by the gate.

Dr.  van der Linden got out, ushered Dusty on to the back seat, stowed
Louise's bits and pieces in the boot and invited her to make herself
comfortable beside him.

Louise, full of the false energy consequent on a sleepless night as
well as a busy one, followed by a hard day's work, was bright-eyed and
chatty.  He allowed her to run on, merely murmuring placidly when she
paused for breath, and when they reached Bick Street, despite the
appearance of Zoe with an invitation to stay for tea, he refused,
although he qualified his refusal with the suggestion that, once the
family had settled in their new home, Zoe might like to have tea with
him.

"After all, I shall be a near neighbour," he told her, smiling down at
the small, pretty creature.

Louise saw the smile; she wasn't at all surprised at the effect Zoe was
having on the doctor.  She was delightfully pretty, with a charming,
unselfconscious air.  Louise, in the mental no man's land of one
needing her sleep, had the pair of them in love at second sight,
engaged and married even while she was bidding Dr.  van der Linden a
polite goodbye at her door; still in the throes of romance, she watched
Zoe accompany him across the narrow pavement to his car.

Provided he wasn't married already, and she must discover that as
quickly as possible, he would do very nicely for her sister--he was a
lot older, of course, but that didn't matter.  She dumped her boxes and
bags in the kitchen, greeted Mike and Christine, handed over Dusty to
the former for his walk, and sat down at the kitchen table.  Christine
was sitting there, doing her homework, but she paused to look at her
elder sister.

"You're tired," she declared.

"The kettle is boiling; I'll make tea--there is some cake... Then you
go upstairs and lie down, Louise; Zoe and I will get the supper and
call you when it's ready.  We can talk then."

Louise drank her tea and, urged by Christine,

took herself off to her room.  It overlooked the street and, glancing
out of the window, she saw that the doctor was still talking to Zoe.

Seeing them, she nodded with sleepy satisfaction and, kicking off her
shoes, subsided on to the bed, to sleep within seconds.

Over supper, much refreshed, she described her day and discussed the
weighty problem of curtains.  Since Zoe was free in the morning, they
agreed to go together and buy all the material they needed.

"And on Saturday," said Louise, 'we'll all go to Ivy Cottage and do the
last odd jobs.  I hope someone will buy those odds and ends of
furniture before we move.  " She ticked off everything which had to be
done before they left Bick Street, and half-way through yawned
prodigiously.

"You go to bed this instant," said Zoe firmly.

"You're asleep on your feet.  We'll make a list and you can check it in
the morning."

A good night's sleep worked wonders; Louise and Zoe, their list made to
everyone's satisfaction, made their way to the High Street and spent an
hour choosing material for the curtains.  The windows of Ivy Cottage
were small and the shop specialised in remnants; they returned home
well pleased with themselves, laden with all they needed.  It remained
only to get the curtains made.  In the cupboard under the stairs was a
very old sewing machine; Louise hauled it out, set it to rights and,
with Zoe to help her, got started.

They were all up early the next morning, and with Dusty and a number of
bags, and a picnic lunch, they were at Ivy Cottage betimes.

Mr.  Poolley had been working hard.  The lino on the kitchen floor was
laid, the dining-room was carpeted and there was a sound of hammering
from somewhere upstairs.  With such an encouraging start to the day
they set to work with a will and, by the time they left, the little
house was beginning to look like home.  Louise went on duty that
evening feeling pleased and excited; in four days' time she would
leave, and once they had settled into their new home she would go after
a job.

Her euphoria waned a little as the night wore on.  The medical wards
were unusually busy; they were always full, but now they were spilling
over, with extra beds up and a number of new patients who needed extra
care.  By the time she was due to go off duty she was tired and
peevish, wanting her bed above all things.

It was nice to find breakfast ready and waiting when she got to Bick
Street; her sisters and brother clustered round as she ate it, and only
when she had finished did Zoe say, "We knew you wouldn't mind,
Louise-Dr.  van der Linden met me when I was out with Dusty yesterday
evening--at least, he was driving home, I suppose, and came down this
street... He stopped and asked if we wanted a lift tomorrow and I said
yes."  She paused to look at Louise's face.

"You don't mind?  It seemed such a splendid chance; we could start on
the garden and he said we could have lunch at his house and take Dusty,
so you'd have a nice long day to yourself.  He'll bring us back this
evening."

Louise squashed a feeling of self-pity welling up in a threatening
manner; it was kind of the doctor, and moreover it rather pointed to
the fact that he had his eye on Zoe.  Besides, if they went there for
lunch they would soon know if he was married, in which case, the
quicker he took his eyes off her, the better.  In the meanwhile there
was safety in numbers.

She said with an instant willingness that she didn't quite feel, "What
a splendid notion, my dears.  Do remember to take Dusty's food with you
and his bowl; he'll be quite happy in the garden.  Christine, if you
finished your curtains yesterday evening, will you take them with you
and hang them?  There is a spade in the little garden shed at the end
of the garden, but perhaps Dr.  van der Linden wouldn't mind you taking
the garden fork--you could leave it there.  Take a bottle of milk--you
might want tea."  She saw their relief as she yawned and declared,
"Must say, a long sleep will be nice..."

"Then you don't mind--truly not?"  asked Mike.

"Not one bit.  I've had a rotten night-all go- and I can think of
nothing nicer than a bath and bed.  Take a key with you just in case
I'm gone before you get back."  Something made her add, "I told Night
Sister on the surgical wards that I

would cover for her for the first half hour--she may be late on duty.
"

Which wasn't true, but she had a reluctance to meet Dr.  van der
Linden, although she wasn't quite sure why.  Urged by the other three,
she went upstairs to her room and got ready for bed but, although she
was so tired, she was still awake when she heard the doctor's car stop
and then the subdued, cheerful murmur of voices and Dusty's hastily
suppressed barks.  They would have a lovely day, she told herself with
resolute cheerfulness.

"And I do hope he's not married," she murmured as she dozed off.


CHAPTER THREE

it wasn't until the following morning when she reached Bick Street
after another night of nonstop work that she had the details of the
outing to Much Hadham, for she had prudently left some time before the
working party would return.  She hadn't seen Dr.  van der Linden,
either, although he had been in the hospital to check on several very
ill patients, but she had been busy at the time in the accident room
and he had sent a message to say that he would leave instructions with
the night nurse on duty and Ted Giles would get in touch with her as
soon as she was free.

She found her brother and sisters in a high state of excitement; they
had had a delightful day, they chorused, at the same time assuring her
that they had worked like Trojans.  Everything that needed to be done
had been done, Zoe assured her, plying her with tea and toast, "And we
went to Aide's house..."

"Aldo?"

Zoe laughed a little.

"That's his name, Dr.  van der Linden.  He said it made him feel old
when we called him doctor all the time.  Well, it's at the other end of
the village--his house--quite beautiful, Louise, and large with a huge
garden at the back.  It's old, eighteenth century, one of those with
cheque red brickwork, and inside it's furnished with the loveliest
antiques.  We only went downstairs, of course, but the hall is vast and
there is a staircase, stone and wrought iron- there is a carpet on it,
of course.  We had a heavenly lunch..."  She was interrupted here by
Mike and Christine and a chorus of praise in which grilled mushrooms in
a wine sauce, roast chicken and gooseberry tart with lashings of cream,
and unlimited lemonade--the genuine kind, they explained-jostled in
mouthwatering fashion.

Zoe went on just as though there hadn't been an interruption.

"And after lunch we went round the garden; it's beautiful, Louise, you
have no idea..."

Louise said equably that no, she hadn't, and reflected silently that it
seemed unlikely that she ever would, although.  She allowed her
thoughts to stray for a moment; if Dr.  van der Linden and Zoe should
marry, she might be given the chance.  And that reminded her.

"Did you meet his wife?"  she asked with just the right amount of
casualness.

"Wife?  He hasn't got one.  He has got a mother and father and brothers
and sisters who live in Holland.  His Granny was English; she left him
that house.  He has got degrees here and in Holland, but he works here,
though he says he'll go back to Holland when he retires, or perhaps
sooner."

Dr.  van der Linden, who had never done more than pass the time of day
with her, seemed to have been remarkably forthcoming about himself. Zoe
would have charmed him into that, of course.  Louise bestowed a
motherly look on her young sister.  No wonder he had been so obliging
to herself, giving her lifts and sending the gardener's boy over to Ivy
Cottage; he wanted an ally just in case Zoe might need an older
sister's advice.

She took herself off to bed presently; Mike and Christine had gone off
to school, Zoe, reluctantly, to her secretarial college and, except for
Dusty, the little house was empty.  Forlorn, too, now, with books and
china and all the odds and ends which had made it home packed away in
boxes.

Two more days, thought Louise, lying half asleep in the bath, and they
would be embarking on quite another way of life.  She would miss her
work at the hospital, of course, it had been satisfying, even if
demanding, but she would find something just as interesting.  A week,
she mused, in which to get Ivy Cottage spick and span, and she would
look for a job after that.  Day duty, if possible.  It was incredibly
good luck that the Easter holidays were late this year;

Christine and Mike had been accepted at schools at Bishop's Stortford,
and would begin the summer term without too much of an upheaval, and
Zoe, most fortunately, had taken her exams only that week and would,
she hoped, be qualified to take a job.  Life was spreading before
her--all of them--in a splendid fashion.  She supposed that it was
because she was tired that she felt so low-spirited.

As though the hospital was reluctant to see her go, she was kept very
busy for the next two nights, and although she saw Dr.  van der Linden
on several occasions their conversation was kept strictly to his
patients' treatment, and not one word did he let fall about anything
else.

She left on her last morning, bearing various gifts from her, nurses
and the other night sisters and a multitude of good wishes, feeling as
though she was living in a dream.  A dream quickly dispelled once she
got home, to find her brother and sisters in a high state of
excitement.  She finally got them away to her satisfaction to their
various studies, and then took Dusty for a brisk walk around the
uninteresting streets and returned home to start on the final
packing.

There were still some curtains to finish; she decided to have an early
lunch, go to bed for a couple of hours and get them done before the
others came home.  With Dusty for company she curled up on her bed and
closed her eyes; she was on the point of sleep when the thought crossed
her mind that Dr.  van der Linden hadn't wished her goodbye, nor for
that matter had he expressed the hope that she would enjoy her future.
They had never got beyond a cool friendliness, although she had known
him for some years at the hospital; long enough for him at least to
utter a token courtesy.  Drifting off to sleep,

she thought that she understood; of course, if he and Zoe were going to
see a lot of each other, he would see her, too; there was no need to
say goodbye.

She had the curtains ready by the time Mike and Christine got home;

they took Dusty for his walk and Louise got the tea and presently Zoe
got back, too, delighted that she had finished her course and brimming
over with plans about a job.  Cutting bread and butter while Louise
warmed the teapot, she said happily, "Aldo said I should get work quite
easily; he said that Bishop's Stortford would be better than Stevenage,
not as industrial; he said to try for a solicitor's office or a bank.
He goes to Bishop's Stortford quite often; I can have a lift whenever I
want one."

"That's nice of him," observed Louise in her calm way.

"I'm sure you'll find something quickly.  Take a few days off first
though, won't you?"

"Oh, rather, darling.  We'll get Ivy Cottage just so before I start
hunting for work.  You must be tired.  Can't you get a part-time job?

I'll be earning too now, and there is no rent to pay, only rates.  Is
there any money left?  "

"Not a great deal," Louise's matter-of-fact voice sounded reassuring.

"Now we've got everything we need; I've put some money away to get Mike
and Christine started--uniforms and so on--and I've a whole month's pay
packet in my pocket.  There is no need to rush off and take the first
job that you are offered."

Zoe said lightly, "We could get married, that would solve that problem,
only what would we do about Mike and Christine?"

Louise rammed the cosy down on the teapot.

"You get married, love, I'm quite happy as I am;

I've been an old maid for so long now, I don't think I want to be
anything else.  "

Zoe chuckled.

"Idiot--you're twenty-six and quite beautiful."

The move went without a hitch, largely due to Louise's sensible
planning and the fact that Dr.  van der Linden telephoned minutes
before the phone was cut off; Zoe answered his call and went dancing
upstairs to where Louise was rolling up the last of the bed linen.

"That was Aldo.  Isn't he a darling?  He is going to Much Hadham in
about half an hour, and says that he will take us and Dusty and drop us
off at Ivy Cottage.  That will leave you in peace to see the furniture
out, won't it, Louise?  The van driver will give you a lift, won't
he?"

Louise knotted a stout cord around some blankets.

"Yes, dear.  I am sure that he will.  It would be a great help if Dr.
van der Linden would take you all, and Dusty, too.  Have the men
cleared downstairs yet?  I told the landlord we would be out of here by
eleven o'clock."

"They were putting in the last few things when I came upstairs.  Shall
I start making the tea?  They are bound to want a cup."

"No, love, I'll do that just before we leave, but be a darling and put
everything ready, will you?  And mind you are all ready when Dr.  van
der Linden gets here; he won't want to hang around."

Zoe sped away and Louise, packing the very last odds and ends from the
bedrooms, reflected that it was kind of Dr.  van der Linden to offer a
lift.  Of course, he was doing it so that he might see more of Zoe. 
She couldn't blame him; Zoe was so very pretty and sweet-natured.

The last chair was being stowed away when the landlord arrived for the
key.  Louise handed it over, listened kindly to his apologies and
excuses, assured him that they had found somewhere else to live without
saying where, and climbed into the van beside the driver and his mate.
She didn't look back as they left Bick Street; it was a page in their
lives she had turned with relief.

All the windows were open at Ivy Cottage, and as the van stopped Mike
and Christine came running out.

"Zoe's just coming--we'll all help..  "

The men wanted their lunch break; Louise invited them to sit where they
liked to eat it, offered tea and then retired to the back garden where
the four of them and Dusty ate the sandwiches she had prudently packed.
It was delightful in the untidy tangle of greenery; they could have
stayed there for the whole afternoon, but the sound of tramping feet
sent them into the house to direct the men and help with the easier
unloading.  It was tea time when they finished and the van drove off,
and Zoe, dropping into one of the shabby, comfortable armchairs in the
sitting-room, exclaimed, "I almost forgot.  Aldo asked us all to go to
his place for tea the minute the men went."  She jumped up again.

"I must wash and do my hair--Christine, Mike, tidy yourselves.  Louise,
you will love his house..."

"Some other time, dear."  Louise spoke with her usual serene voice.

"I'd much rather stay here; there are some papers I must get sorted
before I lose track of them completely.  Make my apologies, will you?

I'll have a cup of tea soon.  We will have supper about seven o'clock,
shall we, and go to bed early?  We've done enough for today.  "

She watched them go presently, a little reluctantly because they didn't
like leaving her behind, but they were accustomed to doing what she
asked of them without demur; she was the head of the family, never
unreasonable, seldom cross and always ready to help with their
problems.

She put on the kettle, made some toast and sat down at the kitchen
table to eat it, offering the crusts to the ever-hungry Dusty.  She
wondered briefly what the others would be having for tea and felt a
small pang of envy--the envy, she reminded herself, was of the food,
not of their host's company.

The doctor watched his guests coming along the street and a faint frown
creased his handsome forehead, but his welcome was warm as they came
in, and he didn't remark upon Louise's absence, but listened with
casual good humour as Zoe explained why her sister had stayed behind,
and made some equally casual remark about the cottage.

He gave them a gorgeous tea; scones and jam, thick cream, gingerbread,
fruit cake, sandwiches and toast fingers spread with Gentleman's
Relish.

Mike, a slice of cake half-way to his mouth, paused to say, "This is
the most super spread, sir; poor old Louise, missing it all."

The doctor gave him a lazy smile.

"Well, we must try and make it up to her some time, mustn't we?"  He
turned to to Zoe.

"I don't know if you are interested but I had occasion to visit my
solicitor today-he is looking for a typist.  His office is in Bishop's
Stortford; there's a staff of four or five girls, as well as a junior
partner, and the pay is quite good.  You would be the junior, of
course."

"Aldo, how marvelous--you really mean that?"

"I always mean what I say, Zoe.  I'll let you have the address to write
to; you will want to talk it over with Louise first, I imagine."

"Oh, of course, but I know she will be over the moon--what a pity she
isn't here now so that we could talk about it..."


"A great pity."  The doctor's voice was non E

committal.

"But I'm sure she has more then enough to do at the moment."

He made no move to detain them when they got up to go, but wished them
a cordial good evening and went to the door with them, expressing the
hope that he would see them again before very long, and he stood
watching them going down the High Street, his thoughts miles away.

Louise received the news of a possible job for Zoe with her usual
calm.

"It sounds just the thing, love.  Do you know who to write to?  It was
kind of Dr.  van der Linden to think of you."

"He said he's going to let me have the address;

I do hope he won't forget.  "

She need not have worried; the gardener's nephew came to the door the
next morning with a brief note for Zoe; she sat down at once and wrote
to the address which had been given to her and went down the street to
the post office.  She wondered if she should call at the doctor's house
at the same time, but Louise had asked her to be quick because they had
the rest of the unpacking to do.  On her way back she fell to wondering
if Louise liked Aldo; she had very little to say about him, and really
there had been no reason why she shouldn't have gone with the rest of
them to his house for tea.

Louise was arranging saucepans on a kitchen shelf, and Zoe, never one
to hesitate, asked, "Don't you like Aldo, Louise?"

Her sister was standing on a chair, the better to reach the shelf.  She
stood with a saucepan lid in her hand, and thought about it before
answering matter-of-factly, "I found him very nice to work for at the
hospital and he has always been pleasant, but you see I don't know him
as a person.  I'm sure he is a very nice man-you like him, don't
you?"

"Very much."  Zoe was putting mugs on a tray ready for coffee.

"I don't think " nice" describes him very well."  She glanced at her
sister.

"He would make a marvelous husband."

"I'm sure he would," agreed Louise warmly;

in her mind's eye she could see Zoe, a picture in white satin, walking
down the aisle of St.  Andrew's church, with the doctor, the epitome of
elegance, waiting for her; she must do all she could to turn the
picture into reality.

She got off the chair.

"Let's have our coffee in the garden.  I suppose Mike's in the attic
with Dusty?  And where is Christine?"

"Washing her hair.  Is there enough money to get her uniform for
school?  And what about Mike?"

"There is enough, just.  I thought I'd write around for a job while
Christine and Mike are on holiday and before you get your job-I might
be lucky enough to get an interview."

She wrote that evening.  Although Bishop's Stortford had nothing to
offer her, Stevenage would like her to go along and have an informal
meeting with the matron.  A morning was suggested and Louise, very well
dressed in her one good skirt and jacket, boarded the local bus.  No
mention had been made in the letter of a vacant post; perhaps they
would merely make a note of her particulars and take her name in case
something turned up.

Stevenage was a new town, given over largely to industry, and it had a
great many factories.  If she did get a job at the hospital, there
would be plenty of work.

The interview went well; Louise, who had been expecting a. youngish,
very up-to-date matron, was surprised to find that lady elderly, not
far off retirement, she guessed, and decidedly old-fashioned in her
views.  But the hospital was modern enough, well equipped, and the
wards were bright and airy.  Their tour took about half an hour, and at
the end of it Louise was offered the post of day sister on women's
medical.

"Shall we say a month's trial.  Miss Payne?  Before you sign a
contract."  She added shrewdly, "You may find me old-fashioned in my
views;

my nurses still wear caps and aprons, and since I am due for retirement
in the next year or so, no one has objected; my successor will, no
doubt, have her own ideas.  "

She picked up Louise's references and read them for a second time.

"You are highly recommended," she observed.

"Could you start as soon as the necessary paperwork has been done? That
should take about a week."

Louise went back home walking on air, her pretty head full of plans,
plans she certainly wouldn't have been making if she had overheard the
matron's long conversation on the telephone.

Zoe was out when she got home; shopping, said Christine.  She and Mike
received Louise's news with whoops of delight, and presently Louise
told them to take Dusty for a walk.

"For I have to write and accept the job, and I'd better get it done at
once."

Not quite at once, though; the house had only been empty for five
minutes and she was hunting for writing paper among the jumble of their
possessions when the knocker was banged and, before she could answer
it, Dr.  van der Linden walked in.

"Alone?"  he asked blandly.

"If you haven't had coffee, I'd love some."

Louise got up from her knees beside an unpacked tea chest.  She said
severely, "Good morning, sir.  Are you on holiday?"

"No, playing truant, merely."

"In that case, I'll make the coffee."  She went through to the kitchen
and found him at her heels.  He looked around him with approval.

"You've made this little place very pleasant to live in," he
observed.

"Thank you.  There is a good deal more to do still.  I am sorry Zoe
isn't here."

She didn't see his surprised look and then the amusement gleaming in
his eyes.

"Has she written about that job yet?"

"Oh, yes.  I do hope she gets it.  It was kind of you to tell her about
it."

"She is a very pretty girl."  He watched her from under heavy lids.

Louise's voice held warmth.

"Yes, isn't she?  And such a nice person, if you know what I mean.  I
know she is only nineteen, but she is very mature--she'll make a
splendid wife..."

"I couldn't agree more.  Have you decided what you want to do,
Louise?"

She handed him a mug of coffee and pushed the biscuit tin towards
him.

"Well, I didn't need to decide.  I wrote to Bishop's Stortford and
Stevenage--they hadn't any vacancies at Bishop's Stortford, but I went
for an interview at Stevenage this morning and I've been offered the
day sister's post on women's medical--a month's trial before I sign a
contract.  I liked the matron and it's a busy hospital, isn't it?"  She
sugared her coffee.

"But of course, you wouldn't know that.  I can't quite believe it, life
has suddenly become almost too good to be true-everything I've wanted
has dropped into my lap."

"And what did you want?"  He asked the question idly.

She waved an arm around the little kitchen.

"This--a home for us all--1 mean, a real one that belongs to us, and
decent schools for Mike and Christine, and fun for Zoe--there weren't
many friends in Horton, and she's a friendly girl;

I want her to have some pretty clothes and meet people and.  "

She paused, and the doctor said quietly, "Marry a man who will love her
and make her happy."  And when she nodded, he added, "And you, Louise,
what do you want?"

The?  But I have what I have always wanted.  You asked me and I have
just told you.  "

"You have no wish to marry?"

She said in her sensible way, "Well, who would look after the others,
even if I knew a man who was prepared to take on four of us?"  She
added disarmingly, "I don't know any men;

night duty isn't conducive to social life.  " She caught his eye and
saw that he was amused, and said hastily, " Oh, of course I know you
and Dr.  Gillespie and Dr.  Foster and Dr.  Giles and the house
doctors, but that is because I worked for you all.  "

She took his mug and refilled it.

"What a funny conversation we're having.  It was very kind of you to
have the family over for tea--I haven't had a chance to thank you, but
I do now."

"My pleasure.  You didn't come, Louise."  It was more a question than a
statement.

"No--I had a lot to do."

"That was the reason, was it?  I thought that you might have been
avoiding me."

She went pink under his thoughtful eye.

"Why on earth should I do that?"

"I had no idea.  I must go."  He glanced at his watch.

"I've a round this afternoon."  He added deliberately, "Tell Zoe to let
me know about that job.  I am home most evenings after six or seven
o'clock."

He went away very quickly, leaving her feeling lonely, and at the same
time pleased at his interest in Zoe.

The letter Zoe had hoped for came the next morning, and she caught the
bus into Bishop's Stortford, leaving Louise to confer with the man from
Telecom, who, when he heard that she was to work at the Stevenage
hospital, professed his willingness to get a telephone laid on as
quickly as possible.

No sooner had he gone than Miss Wills arrived on the doorstep.  Louise
made more coffee, for the Telecom man had finished the first lot, and
sat down to listen to Miss Wills's gentle gossip.

"You managed your move very efficiently," she observed approvingly,
'and how fortunate that dear Dr.  van der Linden was able to give you
the opportunity of travelling with him.  I chanced to meet him and
mentioned that my sister had offered bed and breakfast to you all, and
he assured me that he would be able to transport you all so that you
wouldn't need to remain overnight here.  Such a kind man.  "

"Yes, he is," agreed Louise.  She told Miss Wills about her job in
Stevenage and Zoe's hopes of working in Bishop's Stortford, and Miss
Wills nodded approvingly.

"And while I'm here, may I ask if you have sold the furniture you
didn't require?  Our neighbour has built a small extension on to his
house and needs a chair or two and a table."

"They're still in the attic.  I only sold the bed."

"Then may I send him along?  Your great-aunt always insisted on her
furniture being well polished; I have no doubt that he will be very
pleased to buy it."  Her gaze swept across the sitting-room.

"I see that you have kept several pieces... They are old-fashioned, of
course."

"Just right for this little house.  You may be sure we'll take good
care of them.  Miss Wills.  Do please send your neighbour along; he's
most welcome to look at everything there is."

Miss Wills took her leave.  Louise watched her straight back disappear
down the street and thought how delightful it was to be standing at her
own front door.  She patted the wall behind her lovingly and went back
indoors to dust the furniture in the attic before Mr.  James arrived.

He came that afternoon, and she led him up the narrow stairs and showed
him what there was; not a great deal--a few chairs, rather nice,
well-made Victorian dining-chairs, none of them matching, a solid table
with a chip out of one leg and some stains marring its oak surface, and
a small cupboard, rather ornate.  Mr.  James was determined to examine
everything very slowly;

a man slow to make up his mind, but at length he nodded.

"I'll take the lot for what you ask, but perhaps you will throw in that
folding table in the corner there--it needs repairing but I'm a dab
hand at that."  He made his rather ponderous way down to the hall.

"I'll come round with a hand cart and my son when he gets home this
evening.  You'll not need to lift a finger, young lady."

Louise put the money he gave her into the china Toby jug on the kitchen
dresser, where the housekeeping money was always kept.  A new dress for
Zoe, she decided happily, and Christine would be able to go on the
school outing after Easter; the Head had sent a form when she had been
accepted as a pupil and Louise had said that if she possibly could,
Christine should go- now she would be able to.  As for Mike, he had
been hankering after a fishing-rod for months, even though there was
nowhere to fish in Horton.  He should have one now, and at the same
time she would enquire where he could fish.  There might be a few
pounds over; she debated whether to get a bath mat for the bathroom or
a blouse for herself.  The bath mat won;

she could get the blouse and even a dress with her first pay packet.

Her suit was still good, and even though it was April and getting
warmer by the day, she would be able to wear it for another month; it
would be quite suitable to travel to and from the hospital in.

Mike and Christine came back then; she made coffee yet again and they
went into the garden to drink it while Dusty lolled at their feet.  She
told them about the furniture and watched their faces light up.

"So you see, everything is simply splendid, my dears-Zoe will be back
presently, and let's hope she has had the same sort of good luck."

She was getting the lunch and the other two were in in the garden,
starting on the weeding, when Zoe returned.  The job was hers, she told
them delightedly; she was to start on the following Monday and she
would be paid weekly.  There was a tennis club the other three girls in
the office belonged to, and they had already asked her if she would
like to join.  She looked at Louise.

"But I said I'd let them know--there's an annual subscription and my
tennis racquet needs some new strings."

"You join, Zoe," said Louise without hesitation.

"You'll make lots of friends and meet people.  Have your racquet seen
to and we'll kit you out."

"But the money, Louise?"

"I've sold the bits and pieces in the attic; there is enough for you
all to have something.  Besides, we've both got jobs and there are
still a few pounds left in the kitty."

"Yes, but what about you?"

"I'll get some clothes when I get paid--I've plenty to go on with."

"Well, mind you do," said Zoe.

"Now, you must help me to dole out my salary.  Where is some paper?"

The four of them sat around the table, discussing just how the money
should be spent.  They had it all nicely settled when Zoe said, "I'll
go and see Aldo this evening and tell him about the job.  He will be
pleased."

Which presently she did, not returning until

Louise was on the point of dishing up their supper.

"He is awfully pleased," she told them all.

"He persuaded me to stay and have a glass of sherry."

"I bet you didn't need much persuading," said Mike.

Zoe made a face at him.

"Silly, of course I didn't; he's lovely to talk to.  This time I met
his housekeeper, Mrs.  Potts--she is nice.  Her husband works there
too, a kind of butler, I suppose, although I didn't see him.  Aldo says
will we all go there for drinks on Saturday--six o'clock-he says there
will be some people there who knew Great-Aunt Payne, and we might like
to meet them.  I said yes--was that OK?"

"Of course, love."  Louise was serving cottage pie and didn't look
up.

"But count me out, I have to go to Stevenage to be fitted for my
uniforms ready for Monday--not new ones, but they'll find something to
fit and alter them.  My appointment is for half-past five, so I can't
get back in time.  Make my excuses, my dears, and find out all you can
about Ivy Cottage and Great-Aunt Payne."

Her calm explanation satisfied everyone, although it wasn't strictly
true; she did have an appointment at the hospital, but earlier in the
afternoon, now she would have to telephone and alter it.

She rang up the next morning while the house was empty and got the time

changed.  Luckily there would be one worker left in the sewing 3

room until half-past five; she would have to be there at five o'clock
sharp, she was told.  Which meant that she would have to waste almost
an hour before she caught the bus which would get her home too late to
go to Dr.  van der Linden's house.  She still had no clear idea why she
had gone to so much trouble to avoid him, but she had too many other
things to think about to worry over it.

Saturday came, and she took herself off to Stevenage.  It was nice to
have an hour or two to herself; she had spent days getting Ivy Cottage
just so and, strong though she was, she was tired.  She and Zoe had
spent an afternoon in Bishop's Stortford so that Zoe could get a dress
worthy of her job, and that morning the three of them had gone there
again to buy the fishing-rod and some tights for Christine, leaving
Louise to prepare a meal and take Dusty for a walk.

The talk over their meal was all of fishing and school outings and
speculations as to Zoe's job which she was starting on Monday.  It was
fortunate that Louise's duty times were varied--she wouldn't need to go
on duty until one o'clock on Monday and since Zoe would be home by six
o'clock Christine and Mike would be alone for only a few hours.

Shortly they would be going back to school and be away all day
anyway.

Louise, reviewing her carefully made plans, decided that they should
work very well.

She was greeted sourly by the sewing woman at the hospital.

"Why you couldn't come earlier, I

don't know," she grumbled, 'and me with enough work on my hands for
three; you should have been here at three o'clock..."

"Unforeseen circumstances," observed Louise blithely, 'and we have half
an hour before you go home.  Is this the dress?  I'll put it on at
once, shall

I? "

There wasn't much to be altered; indeed, they were finished with ten
minutes to spare.  Louise made short work of getting her own clothes on
again, and the woman said grudgingly, "I must say you've not fussed
around--some of the nurses these days want this and that done... There
will be a uniform and cap and aprons in your locker in the sisters'
changing-room; you'll get the other two at the end of the week."

Louise made her way to a cafe and sat drinking coffee for half an hour,
and then, still with time on her hands, went through the shopping
centre, planning the clothes she would buy once the family finances
were on firm ground.  The bus was full, but only a handful of people
got off in the village; she exchanged good nights with vaguely familiar
faces and unlocked her front door, to be met by a delighted Dusty,
bored with his own company.

There was a note on the kitchen table for her.

"Aldo says come over when you get back, before seven o'clock.  Supper
is in the Aga."

It wasn't seven o'clock yet, but Louise had no intention of joining the
party; to arrive late just as everyone was on the point of leaving
wouldn't do at all.  Besides, it was important that the doctor had no
eyes for anyone but Zoe--not that he had eyes for herself, but common
courtesy would necessitate him talking to her when he might have been
talking to Zoe.  Louise, her sensible head full of such foolish
notions, went upstairs to take off her good suit.

The three younger ones came in on a wave of cheerful chatter and a good
deal of laughter.  They had had a marvelous time; Aldo had been super
and the canapes had been out of this world.  The other people there had
been older but awfully kind, and they were sorry they hadn't been able
to meet Louise.

"We excused you to Aldo," said Christine, 'and he said to tell you that
he hopes that you will be happy in your new job.  He is going to St.
Nicholas's tomorrow for some meeting or other.  Hard luck on a Sunday,
isn't it?  "

Louise, who had been conning various suitable speeches of regret to
make if she should see him at church the next morning, said, "Oh,
very," and heaved a sigh of relief.  Later, getting ready for bed, she
puzzled about that; she would have to meet the doctor again sooner or
later, and surely it could be on their old cool and pleasant footing.

"I'm behaving like an absolute fool' she told herself, jumping into
bed.

"He'll think I don't like him, and that won't do if he has fallen in
love with Zoe."

Several of the people who had been in the doctor's house at the party
were in church, and after the service Zoe introduced her.  There were
younger men and women with them, too, all friendly, and when they
parted Louise thought with satisfaction that here was a nucleus of
young people for Zoe and Christine, and even a couple of boys Mike's
age, as a start.  And as for herself, the Vicar had invited himself to
tea on her first afternoon off duty, and she had accepted an invitation
to morning coffee on the following Saturday, when she wouldn't be on
duty until one o'clock.  Really life was perfect; well, almost, she
amended, not knowing quite why.

Her working hours were already arranged, one o'clock until eight in the
evening, or eight o'clock in the morning until three in the afternoon
and two days off a week, and every other weekend these could be taken
on Saturday and Sunday.  After night duty, it would be as easy as
falling off a log.

Cheered on her way by the encouraging goodbyes of the others, after an
early lunch, she presented herself at the sisters' changing-room,
donned her uniform, apron and little starched cap and went to Matron's
office.

She wasn't there long; a few crisp words of welcome from that lady and
she was taken to her ward, where she met the staff nurse who had been
doing Sister's duties and the three nurses on duty with her.

Staff Nurse Miller was small and round and cheerful, and very relieved
to hand over to Louise.

"I'm to stay on until five o'clock.  Sister,"

she explained, 'so y oil man see the reports and meet the
patients--there are twenty-four of them--we are nearly always full.

Would you like to do a round first?  It's tea for the sisters at four
o'clock," she observed, 'when you came back there will just be time for
us to do another round if you like.  Sister."

"Where do I go for tea?"  asked Louise.

"Oh, to the ground floor, take the left-hand passage, it's the door at
the end."  She added encouragingly, "They are all nice, the sisters."

Which proved true enough.  Louise was made welcome and sped back to the
ward feeling that she was going to enjoy working with such a friendly
crowd.  There were several ill patients, ill enough to merit the visits
of the house physician and then the medical registrar, and when old
Mrs.  Trott collapsed an hour after Staff Nurse Miller had gone off
duty Louise summoned medical help once more; unless she was mistaken,
the old lady had had a cerebral haemorrhage.

The registrar, a fussy, pompous little man whom Louise was very afraid
she wasn't going to like, agreed with her.

"I have been afraid of this," he told her.

"Mrs.  Trott has had two similar episodes."  He fingered his lip and
looked wise.

"I shall inform the consultant physician and take his advice."

Passing the buck, thought Louise, going about the task of keeping Mrs.
Trott alive; she was familiar with the routine and she saw no reason
why her patient should not recover for a third time; she wasn't in a
deep coma and her pulse was strong.  She was making out the necessary
charts beside the bed while the nurses tidied the ward for the night,
when there was a murmur of voices and a moment later the cubicle
curtains were swept aside and Dr.  van der Linden, with Dr.  Cooper at
his heels, came quietly to the bedside.


CHAPTER FOUR

dr van der linden nodded briefly at Louise, who only stared back at
him, holding back the riot of mixed feelings at his arrival.  His "Good
evening.  Sister Payne, I'll just take a look, if I may?"  was uttered
in his usually pleasant cool manner.

Dr.  Cooper began, "Sister Payne has taken over Sister Tomkin's post;

she.  "

Dr.  van der Linden interrupted briskly.

"Sister and I are already acquainted.  Now, if I may have the notes?"

Mrs.  Trott was very ill, but by no means past aid; presently Dr.  van
der Linden straightened his back, ramming his stethoscope into a jacket
pocket.

"Has intensive care been warned?"

"Yes, sir."  How easy it was to slip back into their old professional
relationship.

"Good.  Let's have her up there, shall we?"  He turned his head and
watched the night nurses coming on to the ward.

"Sister, I expect you will want to give the report, but I would be glad
if you will supervise Mrs.  Trott's removal first.  I'll go ahead and
have a word..  "

He left then, taking the pompous Dr.  Cooper with him.  Louise sent the
nurses off duty, asked the senior night nurse to wait for the report,
and then borrowed the junior to help her.  The porters came then, and
the next ten minutes or so were taken up with Mrs.  Trott being settled
and connected up to the various devices which, hopefully, would revive
her.  Another ten minutes were taken up in conferring with the staff
nurse on duty in the intensive care ward before Louise felt free to
return to her own ward and give the report.  By the time she had done
that it was almost nine o'clock; if she hurried she would be able to
get the last bus home.  She tidied the books on her desk and got up
just as the door opened and Dr.  van der Linden came in.

He said without preamble, "I'll take you back.  I telephoned Zoe and
told her that you would be late.  I'll be outside in ten minutes."

He was gone without giving her a chance to answer.  Over and above her
annoyance at his arbitrary manner was relief that she wouldn't have to
race like a mad woman for the last bus.  She wished the night nurse
goodnight and, bearing in mind the doctor's words, hurried down to the
changing-room.

Dr.  van der Linden was standing in the forecourt talking to Dr.
Cooper, but as she went through the door he nodded to his registrar and
opened his car door for her.

She settled in the comfortable seat with an unconscious sigh; she was
tired and hungry, and only too thankful to sit still for a short
while.

"Thrown in at the deep end, weren't you?"  remarked her companion.

"Yes.  I had no idea that you had beds here."

"Why should you have?  I don't remember telling you that I had."

She said stiffly, "I'm sorry, I hs(U no intention of being nosy."  / He
ignored that.

"Are yorf hungry?  Did you get your supper?"

"No-I don't have it at the hospital.  Normally I would be able to get
the twenty-past-eight bus."  She added politely, "This is very kind of
you, Dr.  van der Linden."

They were already at Much Hadham.

"I told Zoe you would be having supper with me."

Without asking her first!  Louise said tartly, "Most kind of you, but
if you don't mind, I prefer to go straight home.  Some other time..."

He said silkily, "Oh, but I do mind, and some other time covers so many
things, does it not?  The hair must be washed, the kitchen floor must
be scrubbed, the dog must be taken for a run.  I do not know why you
are avoiding me, Louise, but if you have developed a sudden dislike of
me after all this time, do say so; I find this maidenly shrinking from
my company tedious.  But if you can bear with me, Mrs.  Potts will give
us supper and you can be home and in bed by eleven o'clock at the
latest."  He stopped before his front door.

"Zoe told me to tell you that she would see that the young ones went to
bed on time, and that it would be a good thing if you had supper with
me because she had burnt the casserole she had saved for you."

Louise chuckled.

"Put like that, how can I refuse?"  She added a little shyly, "I don't
dislike you, Dr.  van der Linden."

He undid her seat belt, got out and opened her door.

"Good, and since we are to be friends, could you not call me Aldo like
the rest of your family?"

His door had been opened by a short, stout man, and he said, "Ah,
Potts, I've brought Miss Payne back for supper.  Louise, this is Potts,
who runs my home with his wife, and remarkably well they do it, too."

Potts smiled in an indulgent way, and wished Louise a good evening.

"And ask Mrs.  Potts if she will come and take care of Miss Payne, will
you?  Supper in ten minutes or so?"

"Ten minutes, Mr.  Aldo; I've put the drinks in the drawing-room."

Potts trod silently away to the back of the wide hall and through the
baize door beside the staircase, curving up the wall to the gallery
above.  Louise looked around her.  Zoe had been quite right; if the
hall was anything to go by, the house was a delight.  The floor was
polished wood, the walls papered in golden yellow, echoing the pale
colours of the Savonnerie carpet.  There was a fireplace between the
doors on one side of the hall, with a steel grate and an oldfashioned
fender, and above it a large oil painting of a rural view.  Facing the
fireplace was a small wall table bearing a bowl of spring flowers and
flanked by two leather-covered Regency chairs;

there were doors on this side, too, heavy mahogany with brass
handles.

Aldo opened the nearest now and a St.  Bernard dog bounced through to
rear up on his hind legs to greet his master.

"Bernie," said Aldo, 'come and say hello to Louise.  "

The great dog transferred his attentions to her and she cried, "Oh, you
gorgeous beast," and hugged him, almost staggering against his weight,
but at a quiet word from the doctor he sat back, his tongue lolling as
Mrs.  Potts came into the room.

"Ah, Mrs.  Potts, see that Miss Payne has all she needs, will you?"  He
glance^ at Louise.

"I'll be in the drawing-room."  He^nodded towards a door on the other
side of the hall.

In the well-appointed cloakroom tucked away under the stairs, Louise
did what she could to improve her appearance.  She surveyed her
somewhat washed-out reflection with distaste, powdered her nose, used
lipstick and combed her hair, and then went back into the hall.  The
doctor opened a door wide as she did so and ushered her into his
drawing-room.

She stood just inside the door and gazed round her.

"Oh, what a beautiful room," she said softly, and indeed it was.

Raspberry-coloured walls, bare save for several gilt-framed paintings,
a sage-green carpet with the texture of velvet, easy chairs covered in
chintz--a cream background patterned with pink and red roses and green
foliage--and two large couches upholstered in a velvet which matched
the walls exactly.  The curtains of the same chintz, the swags above
them lined with red satin, tied back with matching cords and tassels.
There was a large rococo mirror over the plain marble fireplace, and
cream shaded lamps on the small tables scattered around.

"Come and have a drink," suggested Dr.  van der Linden, and she sat
down with a small sigh of pleasure.

She said in her sensible way, "Of course, you are used to it, but to
anyone coming in here for the first time, it's--it's like a lovely
dream."

"I am glad you like it."  He handed her a drink and sat down in one of
the armchairs with Bernie beside him, watching her face.  When she
opened her mouth to speak and then closed it again firmly, he smiled
faintly.

"My mother is English and I was born in Holland, but my grandmother
left me this house when she died, and as I spent a good deal of time
here when I was a child and later when I came over here to take an
English degree, I already had a great love of it, so I have made it my
home."

The sherry was warming Louise's insides nicely.

"But don't you miss your home in Holland?"

He shrugged.

"I am able to go there very frequently--indeed, I occasionally go there
to lecture and examine--and my parents visit me often."  He got up and
took her glass.

"Shall we have supper?"

The dining-room was across the hall.  Here the walls were amber silk,
and over the chimneypiece there was a lighted painting of a family
group.  The curtains were of the same colour as the walls, and the
floor was carpeted in a rich brown.  There were candelabra on the
mahogany table and on either side of the chimneypiece, and a small bowl
of spring flowers on the table, which was laid with Spode china.

There were linen place mats flanked by plain silver and shining
glassware.  Louise sat down opposite her host and ate her supper with a
sharpened appetite, a little surprised to find that they had a good
deal in common and that talking to him became easier by the minute
while they enjoyed French onion soup, ate sole bonne femme with a
variety of delicious accompanying vegetables, and finished with a lime
souffle.

Mindful of her hopes for Zoe's future, Louise talked about her as much
as possible, and was pleased to see that the doctor shared her
interest.  He agreed with her that Zoe was a very pretty girl and
volunteered the information that she would make a good wife; he said so
seriously, but there was a gleam of amusement in his eyes which she
didn't see.  With a startled eye on the clock, Louise drank her coffee
and said that she must go home.

"I'm on at eight o'clock," she remembered.

"I'm not used to day duty times yet."  She offered a hand.

"Thank you for a delicious supper and for bringing me home."

He went to the door with her, and then through it and on to the
pavement.

"A breath of fresh air is pleasant in the late evening," he told her
blandly, and walked her through the village to her own door, carrying
on a placid conversation about nothing much.  At the gate Louise said,
"I'm afraid Zoe will be in bed..."

He said easily, "Her first day at work she will be tired, I dare say.

Will you tell her that I have to go to Saffron Walden early tomorrow?

If she can get to my place by eight o'clock, I'll give her a lift.  I
can't hang around, though, for I have to be at St.  Nicholas's by ten
o'clock.  "

"I'll tell her."  She put out her hand.

"You have been very kind to us.

Doctor--Aldo, and I do thank you.  " She opened the door.

"Goodnight."

Zoe wasn't in bed.  She was in her dressing- gown, curled up in the
comfy old chair by the Aga, with Dusty curled up beside her.  She
yawned and smiled.

"I couldn't go to bed until I'd seen you, Louise.  I wanted to tell you
about my day and hear about yours.  Did you have a good supper with
Aldo?  Isn't his house super?  I've had a lovely day;

they are all so nice at the office and I managed quite well, I think.

The girls are dears and there is a junior partner.  I did some letters
for him.  His name is George Standish, he lives in Bishop Stortford, he
asked me if I was going to join the tennis-club.  " She grinned
happily.

"He's very good-looking."

She got up.

"I'll make a cup of tea.

"Have you had a busy day?  Aldo said on the telephone that there had
been a hitch."

Louise wondered if Mrs.  Trott would mind being called a hitch.  She
said in her quiet way, "Yes, there was a hitch, but otherwise the day
went very well.  I think I shall like working there."

"Did you have a lovely supper?"

"Yes, I did.  Dr.  van der Linden has a beautiful house--what I saw of
it.  Now, tell me some more about your job, it sounds great."

Zoe rattled on and Louise sipped her tea and thought about Dr.  van der
Linden; he had been very forthcoming about his private life during the
evening--possibly, she reflected, to give her some idea of his
lifestyle and allow her to see what it was and that Zoe would be cared
for in a more than adequate manner; she was, after all, in loco
parentis.  He would be a good husband;

she would have preferred someone younger for Zoe, but one couldn't have
everything.  "What are you thinking about?"  asked Zoe with a touch of
impatience.

"I've been telling you about Mr.  Standish and I don't believe you have
heard a word."

"Oh, yes, I did," declared Louise mendaciously.

"He does sound great."

They went to bed presently, and in the morning Louise left the other
three still sleeping and caught her early-morning bus to Stevenage.

Her day was a busy one, full of small setbacks;

a nurse off sick, Mrs.  Trott still very poorly in intensive care,
several ladies under the impression that a new sister on the ward might
give them an opportunity to complain about their medicines, their diets
and the way the night nurses would wake them too early in the morning,
all of whom had to be listened to, soothed and assured that everything
they were ordered was exactly right for them, and over and above these
tiresome things there were visits from the house physician and another
from Dr.  Cooper, who prosed on and on at each bedside, using long
words the patients didn't understand, so that when he went at last
Louise had to do a round, reassuring them that his oratorical display
was merely their various illnesses translated into medical terms.

There had been a vague hope that Dr.  van der Linden might pay a visit,
but from casual tactful questioning of the house physician she
discovered that he did a weekly round and came when requested to do
so.

"Dr.  Cooper sent for him yesterday because last time Mrs.  Trott
collapsed he wasn't quite satisfied..."

He didn't say why, and Louise did not ask.  Staff Nurse Miller took
over at three o'clock, and Louise, with half an hour before her bus
went, did some shopping for supper.  On the bus presently she thought
with satisfaction that the duty hours suited her very well; it would
take her a little while to get into the swing of things, but already
she was planning the days.  She was free now until one o'clock the next
day, which would give her ample time to catch up with the household
chores.  Christine was splendid at doing the ironing and getting her
and Mike's midday lunch, but they were both busy setting their rooms to
rights, besides doing the local shopping and taking Dusty for his
walks.  Once they were at school it would, in a way, be easier.  Dusty
would have to be left alone during the mornings when she was on duty
early and for an hour or two on alternate afternoons, but then
Christine and Mike would be home before five o'clock.  She got off the
bus, opened her door and went inside.

At a glance, the note on the kitchen table informed her that Christine
and Mike had taken Dusty for a walk and would be back in time for tea,
with a strong hint that they would be hungry by then.  Louise changed
into a dress she kept to wear in the house, and set about cutting bread
and butter and making sandwiches.  There was no cake left; she made a
batch of scones, and while they baked she carried the tea tray through
to the dining-room and laid the table.  Great-Aunt Payne had left some
pretty china in the sideboard there; Louise got out the cups and
saucers of blue and white Bow china, some of them cracked and chipped,
but none the less charming, and went to butter the scones.

She had just finished when Dusty and Christine and Mike returned.

They sat over their tea; there was such a lot to talk about--the new
schools, Louise's job, Zoe's good luck in finding work so quickly, the
things which still had to be done in the house.

They were still there when Zoe came home.  She didn't come into the
house at once, but stood at the door talking, and Louise heard the
doctor's deep voice answering and then Zoe's laugh.  She looked
anxiously at the almost empty plates; if he stayed for tea--although it
was now a bit late-he would have to make do with the packet of rich tea
biscuits she kept for emergencies.  Zoe shut the door and Louise heard
the car drive away as Zoe came dancing into the room.

"I've had tea," she said at once.

"Aldo picked me up from the office and we stopped at a funny little
place just outside Bishop's Stortford and had a great big pot of tea
and the loveliest Madeira cake... He wouldn't come in--he thought you
might be tired, Louise."

"How very considerate of him," observed Louise in an equable voice
which betrayed nothing of her feelings; the remark made her sound as
though she was only just holding her own under the burden of a job, a
house to run and a family to care for.  An exaggeration which she was
able to laugh about in the light of morning.

During the next week or so she saw Dr.  van der Linden only once, and
that was when he did his weekly round of her ward.  His manner had been
exactly right; politely casual between the beds and strictly
professional at the patients' bedsides.  Even though he had had the
opportunity to speak to her in private if he had been so minded, he
hadn't, merely wishing her good day and walking away with Dr.  Cooper,
his house physician and all the rest of them trailing behind him.

He was deliberately avoiding her, Louise decided, for the rest of her
family mentioned him frequently enough; he had given Zoe several lifts
to and from work; Mike and Christine had seen him on various occasions
driving through the village, and each time he had stopped to speak to
them.  She racked her brain, trying to think what she might have said
or done to annoy him, but she could think of nothing.

She arrived home after a particularly busy day to find the house empty
and a laconic note, "Gone fishing', on the kitchen table.  There was a
letter addressed to herself beside it, and she opened it idly.  It was
an invitation to attend the Spring Ball which was held at St.
Nicholas's Hospital in ten days' time, and enclosed with it was a note
from Matron, hoping that she would attend and renew her various
friendships.

It would be fun to go, thought Louise, but she didn't think she would
go, all the same.  True, she had last year's dress hanging in the
wardrobe, rather out of date but still passable, and it would be nice
to see her friends again, but supposing no one asked her to dance, and
how was she to get back to Much Hadham afterwards?  She put the card
back in its envelope and made a pot of tea.

"There was a letter for you," said Christine as they all sat round the
table at supper that evening.

"Only an invitation to the St.  Nicholas Spring Ball," said Louise,
dishing out shepherd's pie.

There was a concerted chorus of, "You must go; when is it?"

"Ten days' time, but I'm not going."

"You can have a new dress; I'll let you have my week's wages," offered
Zoe.

Louise thanked her warmly.

"Thank you, darling.  But I'm not going."

Nothing any of them could say changed her mind.  Tomorrow morning she
would write and decline, and post the letter before she went to the
hospital at one o'clock.

She wrote it directly after breakfast the next morning, after Zoe had
gone and Christine and Mike had taken Dusty for his morning walk.  It
was a pleasant day, and a walk to the post office would be nice--she
fetched a jacket and started off briskly.  She had gone only a hundred
yards or so down the main street when she saw Dr.  van der Linden
bearing down towards her, quite obviously intent on speaking to her.

He fetched up in front of her, blocking her path so that she had to
stop.

"Good morning, Louise.  I was on my way to see, you."  His eyes rested
on the envelope in her hand and he took it quite gently from her and
read the address.

"Have you accepted?"  he wanted to know.

She put out a hand to take it back and thought better of it.

"Very wise," he said softly.

"It would hardly do to have a tussle in the centre of the village.

You haven't answered my question.  "

"I've refused."

"How very fortunate that I should reach you before you arrived at the
post office.  It would give me great pleasure if you would come with
me, Louise."

She stared up at him.

"To the ball?  To St.  Nicholas's?  As your partner?"

"Why so surprised?  It seems to me to be a most convenient
arrangement;

we can go and return together, thus solving the question of travel for
you, and giving me the pleasure of a charming partner for the
evening.

Although I shan't take umbrage if you should choose to dance with
anyone else.  "

"Well," said Louise, 'well.  " She stood thinking about it.

"You're sure it's me you want to take?  Why?"

"Did I not make myself clear?  You are known to everyone at the
hospital; so am I. What could be more natural than us going together?

After all, we live within sight of each other's front doors.  " He
smiled suddenly.

"Besides, I should hate to go without a partner..."

"But you would have plenty--all the doctors' wives and Matron and the
sisters..."

"If you are with me, I'll only need to do my duty dances once."

"Oh, so that is what we were."  She spoke tartly.

"Not all of you."  He smiled slowly and she went faintly pink.

"Please come, Louise?"

She hesitated.

"Zoe..."  she began.

"No, she knows no one at St.  Nicholas's, does she?  It wouldn't be
much fun for her--you have friends enough who will be delighted to see
you again."

"Well, it would be nice... Very well, I'll come."

He didn't let her have her letter back.

"Splendid.  Come back home and write an acceptance.  I'll let.  you
know at what time I'll pick you up- we're bound to see each other from
time to time;

if not, I'll telephone.  "

He turned her round smartly and started walking back towards Ivy
Cottage.

"You're free until midday?  Good.  Zoe was telling me that you've
uncovered some rather nice rose bushes in the garden; if you invite me
for coffee I'll take a look at them and tell you what they are."

"Do you know?"

"I'll let you know that when I've seen them."

She had intended to turn out the linen cupboard, still rather chaotic
after the move, and there was a load of washing to hang out before she
left the house.  The linen could wait, she had a day off the next day,
and Christine would hang out the washing.  She led the way indoors,
through the cottage and out into the garden.  The roses, hitherto
hidden in coarse clumps of grass and massive weeds, were more or less
standing free once more, and all of them had foliage.

"I'll put on the kettle," said Louise, and left him there while she got
mugs and milk and sugar and inspected the tin of biscuits.

He wandered in presently.

"Quite a nice selection," he observed, and went to wash his earthy
hands at the sink.

"An Iceberg, two Super Star, a Queen Elizabeth and a Wendy Cussons.
They are in good heart;

it's too late to prune them though, and they will need some surface
mulch;

may I send the boy over with some?  We have more than we need.  He
could help Mike dig it in.  "

"That's kind of you, but I'll send Mike over for it, shall I?  I'm
sure..."

Mike and Dusty, followed at a more leisurely pace by Christine, came
into the kitchen at that moment.  They greeted the doctor like an old
friend, and took him outside again to examine the garden and boast of
the work they had done there.  And since they showed no signs of coming
in again Louise took the tray of coffee outside and set it on the
rickety table by the shed.  The doctor didn't stay long, and since the
talk was taken up entirely by gardening nothing more was said about the
ball.

As soon as he had gone, Louise sat down and wrote her acceptance, while
Christine hung over her shoulder, advising her what to wear, how to
arrange her hair and the right shade of lipstick.

"You're really very pretty," she declared, 'and it doesn't show at all
that you're twenty-six.  "

A remark which Louise took in good part, with a meek promise to buy
another lipstick.

During the next few days she toyed with the idea of buying a new dress
for the ball, but if she did it would make a hole in her bank
account,

and really last year's was not too bad.  Besides, she doubted if Dr.
van der Linden would notice what she was wearing, and he certainly
wouldn't remember that he had seen the dress already at last year's
ball.

She had arranged her days off to coincide with the date of the ball so
that she was able to spend a few leisurely hours washing her hair,
doing her nails and examining her pretty face for wrinkles and spots.

She had seen very little of the doctor, but he had phoned to say at
what time he would call for her, and Zoe, who saw more of him than
anyone else, declared that he was looking forward to the evening.

"It's so handy," she explained as she helped with the washing up.

"Aldo goes to Bishop's Stortford quite often, you know, and it's great
getting a lift."  She polished a plate with unnecessary care.

"Louise, do you mind if Mr.  Standish comes for me on Saturday?  He
thinks it would be a lot easier for me if he took me to the tennis club
and I met everyone..."

"A splendid idea, love.  You will make heaps of friends.  Does Aldo
belong to the club, too?"

"No, worse luck, he says he hasn't the time, though Mr.  Standish told
me that he is an awfully good player.  He plays squash, too."  She
added, "Of course, when you are getting towards middle age you need to
keep fit."

Louise wrung out the dishcloth.

"He's not quite as old as that, surely?"  She frowned at the thought.

"Does he seem old to you, Zoe?"

"Good heavens, noHe's great fun--I adore him."

A satisfactory answer which should have afforded Louise a good deal of
pleasure, and which, unaccountably, did not.  The dress, amber crepe,
well cut and an excellent fit, looked all right when she got into it,
although she was only too well aware that in the ballroom it would go
unremarked among the high fashion worn by the ladies present.  She
spent an anxious few minutes looking for the angora stole which would
do duty as an evening wrap, presented herself for inspection under
Christine's critical eyes and Zoe's comforting praise, and went into
the sitting-room where the doctor was waiting.

He looked up from the book on fishing Mike was showing him, wished her
a grave good evening and then Smiled.

"You look charming," he told her.

"Oh, good," said Louise cheerfully.

"It's last year's, you know.  You wouldn't have noticed that I wore it
at the last ball."

He did not contradict her, but his eyes gleamed with amusement.  He
looked remarkably handsome himself, thought Louise, wrapping herself
into the stole; a dinner-jacket suited him and, though she didn't know
much about such things, it seemed to her that his was superbly
tailored.  He would have to have everything made for him, of course,
she reflected, an admiring eye on his snowy shirt-front, for he was
such a very large man.

The drive to the hospital was accomplished in a pleasant atmosphere of
casual friendship;

beyond one or two remarks, the doctor showed no interest in Louise's
work although he seemed willing enough to discuss Zoe's job.

"She seems to be doing very well," he observed.

"It is a pity that bright young things like her all too soon get
married."

"I don't think that is a pity," declared Louise.

"You said yourself that she would make a good wife."

"Indeed, yes.  One man's loss is another man's gain.  She has a most
endearing personality."

"Yes, hasn't she?"  Louise sounded as though she meant it, and she
did.

"It's such a pity she couldn't have come to the ball in my place."

"You have no wish to come?"  The doctor's voice was silky.

"Of course I have.  It will be lovely to see everyone again.  Only I
don't want her to miss any fun..."

"And have you not missed a good deal of fun yourself during the last
few years, Louise?"

She said stiffly, "That's got nothing to do with it."

He didn't answer, only remarked presently on the fine evening and the
prospect of good weather.  Always a safe topic, thought Louise,
answering in kind.

The ball was held in the lecture hall of the hospital, suitably decked
for the occasion with balloons, a good deal of crepe paper and a great
many artificial flowers.  It was well under way by the time they
arrived, and Louise, going to the side room set apart for the ladies'
wraps, could hear the band pounding away at the other end of the
hall.

The doctor Was waiting for her when she emerged; she looked elegant and
with not a hair out of place, and definitely worth a second glance,
even if her dress wasn't in the forefront of fashion.

She said in her matter-of-fact way, "Am I all right?"  and since she
was peering over his shoulder at the half-open door and the mass of
dancers beyond, she missed his look, although she heard his bland,
"Perfectly all right, Louise."

They shook hands with the dignitaries, and Louise spent a few minutes
with Matron, while Dr.  van der Linden exchanged brief greetings with
those of his colleagues who were in the reception committee, before
scooping her up and dancing her off to join the crowd on the floor.

They danced together for half an hour or more, until Ted Giles tapped
the doctor on the shoulder.

"May I have just one dance with Louise, sir?"  he asked, and she found
herself dancing off with Ted, and a moment later saw Dr.  van der
Linden partnering the medical consultant's wife.  Of course he would
have to dance with his colleagues' wives--Matron, too, and the wives
and daughters of the hospital committee.  She doubted if she would see
much more of him that evening.

Which proved to be the case, although he took her in to the supper room
and sat for half an hour with her eating minuscule sausage rolls, very
small sandwiches and ice-cream, making the kind of small talk generally
found at social occasions.  It was a relief to her when the medical
registrar came across and reminded her that she had promised him a
dance.  A few minutes later she saw the doctor with Matron, and it
wasn't until the last dance was announced that he appeared beside her,
and without speaking waltzed her off.  As they circled the ballroom,
she reflected that it had been a pleasant enough evening; it had been
fun to meet her friends again, and her dress had gone unremarked in the
crush.  She would have liked to have danced more often with the doctor;
he was a good dancer and so was she; a sufficient reason for the regret
she felt.

There was some delay before they left: friends to seek out and bid
goodbye.  Matron to thank, several of the medical staff to exchange
polite nothings with, but they left at last, got into the car and began
the drive back to Much Hadham.

It was a clear night, with the moon sailing through a starry sky, and
there was little traffic;

they talked in a desultory fashion about the evening, and when Louise
stifled a yawn the doctor said, "Off duty tomorrow, Louise?"

"Yes, and a good thing, too.  Are you?  Free, I mean?"

"No, I'm going to Leeds Infirmary to give a couple of lectures."

"You're not driving there?"

"Why ever not?"  His voice was cool.

"I don't have to lecture until the early afternoon."

"But it's past two o'clock.  You'll never get there..."

"I will leave around eight o'clock and be there for lunch."  i She
persisted,!  "But it's over a hundred and seventy miles, isn't it?"

"About that, I tn ink I appreciate your concern, Louise, but you have
no need to fuss."

A remark which caused her to retreat into peevish silence, a silence
only broken when he stopped in front of Ivy Cottage.

"Would you like to come in for a cup of coffee?"  she asked.

"It's rather late--or should I say early?  Some other time, if I
may?"

He had got out and taken her key to open the door.

"It was a lovely evening, thank you very much," said Louise, sounding
like a polite little girl leaving a party.

"Indeed a lovely evening, Louise, and it is I who thank you for it."

He took her hand briefly, and then opened the door so that there was
nothing for it but to go past him into the hall.  She stood behind the
closed door, listening to the car being driven away.  She hadn't
thought much about it, but she hadn't expected the evening to end like
that, almost as though he was glad it was over.

if Perhaps he was.  She crept up to bed, vaguely | troubled.  I The
ball was discussed ad nauseum the next day, and the following day she
went on duty at eight o'clock, glad that she had a day's work to I
occupy her mind.  } She had done her morning round, assigned the I
day's work to her nurses, and was in her office ] catching up on the
paperwork when the phone \softline rang.  Matron would like to see her
in the office.

Louise handed over to Staff Nurse Miller and started off through the
hospital corridors.  It would be about signing her contract; her month
would be up in a few days' time, and once she had signed she would have
to give three months' notice if she wished to leave.  The job wasn't
precisely what she would have chosen; her work had been much more
varied at St.  Nicholas's and more interesting.  On the other hand, she
had security and no money worries; very likely she would continue in
the same job for years.  The thought depressed her just a little;

one should be thankful for the way things had turned out.  She knocked
on Matron's office door.

Matron looked uneasy, but she invited Louise to sit down, enquired as
to whether she had enjoyed the ball, remarked in passing that Louise
was running her ward well and then, after a lengthy pause, said, "The
hospital governors had a meeting this week; there will have to be
certain retrenchments made.  Sister Payne.  Cutting down on staff is to
be one of them.  I am sorry to tell you that you are to be made
redundant."

Louise felt the shock of the words running through her like ice-cold
water.  She heard herself speak in a quiet voice.

"I'm sorry to hear that, Matron, but I quite understand--I have no
contact and obviously I should be one of the first to go."

"How sensible of you to see that at once, Sister."  Matron sounded very
relieved.

"Needless to say, I am very sorry to lose you.  I am more than
satisfied with your work, but I have no say in the matter.  Your ward
is to be combined with the men's medical under one sister--Sister Crewe
has been here for many years, of course."

She waited for Louise to speak and, when she didn't, "You have less
than a week, have you not?  Please come and see me again before you
leave, and of course I shall be only too pleased to give you a
reference.  You must let me know if I can help in any way."

Louise thanked her and went back to the ward.  She got through the day
somehow, and went home thankful that it was Christine and Mike's first
day at their new schools.  She had the house to herself, with Dusty for
company.  She sat for a long time on the stairs, crying all over his
coat.


CHAPTER FIVE

it was Dusty who brought Louise's fit of weeping to an end.  He was
devoted to Louise, but he disliked the dampness engendered by her
tears.  He wriggled free and she said apologetically, "Sorry, Dusty--so
silly of me," and got up and washed her face and set about getting tea
ready.  By the time the others got in she was her usual serene self,
although her eyelids were red and so was the tip of her pretty nose.

It was Christine who asked at once, "What's the matter, Louise?"

Louise handed round the cups of tea.

"My dears, bad news, I'm afraid--they're cutting down at the hospital
and I'm out of a job in a few days' time."

"But they can't..."  There was a chorus of indignation.

"Oh, yes, they can.  I'm the last to be offered a job at the hospital,
so it's only fair that I should be the first to depart."  She looked at
their anxious faces.

"Don't worry, my dears, I'll get another job--there's no need to worry.
We have a home of our own and Zoe has a job, and you two are at school
and there is still some money in the bank."

She watched them relax, and then Zoe asked,

"Shall I give up the tennis club--I could, you know; I haven't paid my
sub yet..."

"I don't need to go on that outing," declared Christine stoutly.

"Thank you both, but there is no need to change anything; there's
enough tucked away to keep us comfortably for several months."  A gross
exaggeration if ever there was one; indeed a fib, but there would be a
job of some sort, there was bound to be.

She handed over her ward without fuss, bade the other sisters goodbye,
assured Matron that she would find another post without difficulty, and
left the hospital as quietly as she had entered it only a brief month
previously.

She had seen Dr.  van der Linden once more on the ward when he did his
weekly round, but she had said nothing to him; moreover she had told
Zoe that on no account was she to mention the matter to him.  He had
greeted her in his usual calm way, dealt with his patients, given her
instructions and gone on his way.  She had watched him go, suppressing
a strong wish to run after him and tell him all about it.  Doubtless in
due course he would be told, but with any luck, by the time she saw him
again, she would have found another post, or at least applied for
one.

It seemed rather strange to be at home all day, but rather nice, too.

She finished the last of the cupboards, got on with the garden, took a
delighted Dusty for long walks and conned her cookery books, intent on
finding recipes which were light on the housekeeping money.

It was about a week after she had left the hospital, and while she was
rolling suet crust for the steak and kidney pudding she was making for
supper that evening, when the door knocker was thumped smartly.

She dusted off floury hands and went to open the door, with the
ridiculous hope that it might be connected in some way with the
applications for work she had already sent.  A geriatric hospital
needed a part-time sister; a nursing home in Bishop's Stortford
required someone to deputise for Matron, hours not specified; and a
factory in Stevenage was asking for a nurse for the casualty
department.  She had applied to them all.

She opened the door and found herself confronting Dr.  van der Linden's
massive person.

"Oh--good morning."  She added idiotically, "There's only me here."

"Cooking?"  He had not said good morning, or even hello.

"I dare say you have time enough for that now?"

Without waiting to be asked, he went past her into the hall and on into
the kitchen.

"I'm busy."  She shut the door and followed him there, and to add
weight to her remark took up the rolling pin.

He sat down in the chair by the Aga, and Dusty spread himself over his
feet.  Louise rolled her pastry into a neat round.

"You may as well know," she announced matter-of-factly, "I've been made
redundant.  I finished last week."

"I know.  I'm on the hospital committee."  He ignored her gasp of
surprise.

"Have you^feund anything else?  There hasn't been much time, has
there?"

"I have applied for several jobs; there hasn't been time for answers
yet."  She laid her crust carefully over the pudding basin, made a
small split in the centre, covered it with foil and fastened it with a
rubber band, all the while not looking at him.

"Not panicking?"  he asked casually.

"Certainly not."  She uttered the fib in what she hoped was a confident
voice.  Of course she was panicking; nursing staff were being cut all
over the country; she would be lucky to get a post locally.

She tidied away her cooking tools and asked politely, "Would you like a
cup of coffee?"  She sought for another topic of conversation; she had
no idea why he had come to see her, and there was something about his
manner which made her uneasy.

"Mike and Christine are very happy at school," she began chattily, 'and
Zoe loves her job.  She's joined the tennis club.  "

"Yes, I know."  He sounded amused and she went pink; of course, Zoe
would have told him.  She busied herself making coffee and, having
poured it, sat down composedly at the kitchen table with her mug in
front of her.

"Are you wondering why I came?"  asked the doctor blandly.

"Yes."

"I have a job for you-temporary but immediate.  I have consulting rooms
in Wimpole Street.  I employ a receptionist and a nurse, who has
unfortunately contracted jaundice; she will be away for several weeks,
and in the meantime chaos reigns.  Would you help out?  I can't promise
transport every day, for I quite often spend a night at the flat in
town, but the hours are very easy, ten o'clock until four in the
afternoon on weekdays.  Occasionally I should need you for some special
case--a private patient in his or her own home who may need nursing
attention during an examination.  I go abroad from time to time and
usually take my nurse with me; since she is unable to accompany me you
would have to take her place.  Your salary would be the same as you
have been receiving in hospital."

"Ten o'clock until four five days a week is thirty hours-I work
thirty-seven and a half; you would be paying me too much."

"Oh, no.  You will probably have less time for lunch, possibly no lunch
at all at times, and the hours could vary."

She was tempted to say yes at once; it was a heaven-sent chance to have
a change, which might never come her way again.  She might not hear
from any of the jobs she had applied for, on the other hand one of them
might turn out to be satisfyingly permanent and safe, whereas he had
said that his offer was a temporary one.  He got to his feet while she
was pondering the question.

"Well, think about it and let me know," he said easily.

"If you do decide to help me out, I'll pick you up tomorrow morning; I
have^ to go to St.  Nicholas's first, but I can drop you of at my rooms
and Miss Squires can show you round."

He went unhurriedly to the door.

"Give me a ring around tea time, one way or the other," he suggested,
and before she could answer him he was in the hall and out of the front
door.

After he had gone, she sat down and had another mug of coffee; now that
the surprise of his offer had subsided a bit she felt a pleasant sense
of excitement.  She loved her work as a hospital sister, but just
lately she had been conscious of a vague discontent.  She had ignored
it because she was sensible enough to know that to acknowledge it would
be both useless and a waste of time.  In a few more years Christine
would be either trained or training for whatever she chose to do, Mike
would be almost ready for university and, as for Zoe, she would be
married.  To Aldo?  Louise frowned suddenly.  Zoe had a good deal to
say about this young man at the office, a junior partner already, but
would he be good enough for Zoe?  She deserved the very best.  Aldo,
for instance, who appeared to have everything: good looks, charm when
he chose to exert himself to use it, a lovely home, a splendid car, a
more than comfortable income, and last but by no means least a growing
reputation in his profession.

Louise offered Dusty a biscuit.

"It might be a good idea," she told him.

"I'll get to know a bit more about him, I know it's not me he's
interested in, but if I let him see that I approve of him wanting to
marry Zoe... No, that won't do, much he cares about what anyone thinks
if he has set his mind on something."  She drank the rest of her cold
coffee.

"All the same, we need the money and it would give me a week or two to
look for something permanent.

Dusty barked his agreement, ate another biscuit and disposed himself
for a nap.

Zoe was the last to get home; Louise waited for her before telling them
her news.  They received it with lively interest and a good deal of
ill-concealed relief.

"Ring him up now, Louise," begged Christine, 'otherwise he may think
you don't want the job and find someone else.  "

The doctor's calm acceptance vexed her; he sounded as though he had
been sure she would accept without a second thought, and just for a
moment she hesitated when he told her to be ready promptly in the
morning; it was disconcerting, therefore, when the quiet voice in her
ear said, "No, don't change your mind, Louise.  I'm depending on
you."

She said quietly, "I'll be ready, and thank you, Aldo."

She hung up and turned to face the three puzzled faces.

"Don't you like Aldo?"  asked Christine.

"You sounded quite--well, icy."  She added, "We all like him.  If I
were old enough, I'd like to marry him.  Mike likes him too, and Zoe
dotes on him, don't you, Zoe?"

"Oh, rather, he is dreamy; I wouldn't mind being in your shoes,
Louise."

Probably, she thought, he wished the same thing; out loud she said, "I
do like him, you know, only I don't know him as well as you do.  It's
certainly a piece of luck that he needs a nurse; it'll give me time to
find something permanent.  The pay is the same, too."

She was up in the morning betimes, anxious to be ready and waiting when
the doctor called for her.  The others were up, too, and crowded to the
door to bid him a cheerful goad morning and wish her luck.

Louise gave a final wave and settled back in her seat.

"I hope Dusty will be all right; Mike will take him out before he goes
to school, and I'll be back before five o'clock.  Christine ought to be
home before then..."

She sounded worried, speaking her thoughts out loud, and the doctor
gave her a quick sideways glance.

"Ah, I should have thought about that."  He slowed the car and reached
for the phone between them.

"Potts, will you send Tim over to Ivy Cottage right away and tell him
to arrange with Miss Zoe, or whoever is there, to take out Dusty at
midday or thereabouts.  He had better go right now before they leave
for school.  Thanks."

He put back the receiver and picked up speed again.

"That will serve until we can think of something better.  Do you
suppose that Zoe could take a longer lunch hour and go home and see to
Dusty?  If the buses fitted in--it's only four miles.  How long does
she get?"

"An hour.  I believe that there are buses to fit it.  Thank you for
arranging for Tim to go over to the cottage--I should have done
something about it."

"You have hardly had the time.  I go to Stevenage on Tuesdays or
Wednesdays--I'll collect Zoe on my way and drop her off; it's no
distance and I don't have a round until two o'clock; I can drive her
back before I get to the hospital."

"I'll talk to her about it this evening."  Louise sounded vexed and she
was, but with herself.  It was unlike her not to have everything
planned and running smoothly; she must be losing her grip.

They were on the outskirts of London by now, the rows of dull brick
houses gradually giving way to solidly built Victorian houses, and then
streets of elegant Georgian terraces, immaculate and presenting
dignified fronts to the outside world, concealing an equally dignified
splendour within.  Wimpole Street was almost empty of traffic.  The
doctor stopped halfway down it, got out, ushered Louise from the car
and unlocked the elegant door of one of these houses.  There were
several brass plates beside it, but Louise was given no time to look at
them; she was swept into a narrow hall, richly carpeted and pleasantly
warm.  There was a staircase to one side and another door beside it.
The doctor opened this one, too, and urged her briskly forward.  There
were several doors in the square hall; he opened the first of them and
then stood aside for her to go in.

The waiting-room was furnished in so restful a manner that even the
most nervous of patients would relax.  There were small easy chairs
dotted around, magazines on tables, vases of flowers, and in one corner
a desk behind which sat an elderly lady: extremely thin, with a sharp
nose and an old-fashioned hairdo.  She had a pleasant face, despite the
nose, and now she smiled warmly and got to her feet.

"Here she is.  Miss Squires," said the doctor.

"Louise Payne, come to help us out."  He watched them shake hands
before going to the door.

"I

have to be at St.  Nicholas's, so I must leave you to show her round; I
haven't any patients until the afternoon, have I?  "

"Two o'clock.  Doctor," said Miss Squires in a no-nonsense voice, 'and
I've added two mo rete the list.  You will have a busy afternoonj-^^^
He nodded, gave Louise an encouraging smile and went away.

"We'll have a nice cup of tea," declared Miss

Squires, 'and get to know each other--that will be nice--and then I'll
take you round.  Mrs.  Pratt, the nurse, you know, left everything in
apple-pie order.  Terribly upset, she was, having to take sick leave,
but the doctor has promised that she shall have her job back just as
soon as she is quite fit.  " She gave Louise a questioning look which
Louise saw.

"Yes, he did explain that to me.  I'm looking for a permanent job
myself.  I've always worked in a hospital-I hope I'll be able to cope
here..."

Miss Squires was putting cups and saucers on a tray.

"Of course you will.  It's very undemanding, no rush and hurry like
hospitals, only occasionally he sees patients in the evening and visits
them in their homes, too; that's when he takes you along; been abroad
once or twice, too.  He lectures a good deal... Come through here and
see our little kitchen."

A tiny cubicle, but well equipped for making tea and coffee and even a
light meal.

"There is a daily woman who comes in to clean, but you look after the
consulting room and the examination room next to it."

She put on the kettle and then led the way into a large room at the
back of the house, furnished in neutral colours, but with some good
pictures and more flowers.  The examination room was small, but had
everything necessary in it, and beyond that was a small office which
she was to use as her headquarters.

"Everything that you need is here," said Miss

Squires.

"Presently I will leave you to poke around.  There is an overall behind
the door: the doctor asked me to get it.  I only hope he got the size
right."  She measured Louise's person with her eyes.

"It looks to me as though he did."

Louise hadn't said much; there hadn't been much chance, for Miss
Squires was a good talker.  Besides, there wasn't much need; she felt
pretty sure that she would be able to manage once she had had the
chance to see where everything was.

"The patients who are coming this afternoon?"  she asked.

"May I see their notes?"

"Yes, of course.  We'll have our tea and then feel free to do whatever
you want.  You know the hours?  Ten o'clock until four, but it is often
later, I warn you.  Can you get to and fro easily?"

"Oh, yes, no problem.  Dr.  van der Linden brought me this morning, but
there's a good train service, and there is a tube close by, isn't
there?"

"Very handy," commented her companion, and poured the tea.

"Now do tell me something about yourself--the doctor said that you
lived near him and had a sister--two sisters--and a brother, all
younger?"

They spent a pleasant ten minutes or so before Miss Squires went back
to her desk and Louise sat down to read the patients' notes, and by the
time she had done that Miss Squires declared herself ready to go to
lunch.

"I wasn't sure about my lunch hour," said Louise.

"I brought sandwiches with me... Is there a place near here for coffee
and a roll?"

Miss Squires nodded.

"Yes, and not too pricey, but you bring your lunch with you if you
like.  The place will be empty and you can make tea or coffee.  I'll be
back at half-past one."  Which gave Louise time to explore the whole
place in peace.

She had her head buried in a cupboard, examining the various forms
tidily arranged in it, when she heard the door to the waiting-room
open.

"I'm here," she called without looking round.

"I can't find the appointment cards and he'll be here any minute."

"He's here now," said Dr.  van der Linden into her ear, so that she
spun round in a fine state of surprise.

"The cards are at the back of the second shelf on the left-hand
side."

"Heavens, you gave me a fright," said Louise tartly.

"It's bad for anyone to be shocked like that."

He eyed her pink cheeks, smiling slowly.

"But it suits you, Louise."

Under his gaze her cheeks became even pinker.  It really would not do,
she told herself firmly, to feel like this just because Aldo had
surprised her; so excited and delighted at the sight of him.  He was
going to be her brother-inlaw, wasn't he?  So she must cultivate a
sisterly feeling towards him, not this pleasant glow spreading into her
ribs.

He moved away and she closed the cupboard door, and was glad when Miss
Squires joined them with the afternoon's appointments in one hand and a
handful of telephone messages in the other.

Louise was kept busy for the entire afternoon.  The patients who came
were mostly elderly, several of them for the first time and
apprehensive.  Louise slid into her new role without difficulty;

after running a busy ward it was positively restful, although at the
end of the afternoon Miss Squires remarked that it had been a nice
quiet beginning for her.

"You managed very well," she observed kindly.

"Of course, Dr.  van der Linden is very easy to work for; very calm and
good-natured and not easily put out.  Of course, you worked for him at
St.  Nicholas's, didn't you?"

"Well, not exactly for him," said Louise, 'but I saw him frequently
when I was Night Sister.  "

They had tidied the room between them and were preparing to leave.  The
doctor had gone with a friendly nod and a word of thanks, and Louise
cast a quick look at the clock on the waiting-room wall.  It was only a
little past half- past four; if she didn't have to hang around for a
train she would be home by the time she had expected.  Perhaps it would
be quicker to get to the station by tube.  She followed Miss Squires to
the door, which was opened before they reached it.

"Ready?"  asked the doctor, and looked at Louise.

"I'm going home, I'll drop you off.  And you.  Miss Squires."

Louise got into the back of the car, with Miss Squires in the front,
but when presently that lady got out in order to take the underground
home, the doctor said over his shoulder, "I have to go to St.
Nicholas's for a few minutes," and without waiting for her reply wormed
the car back into the beginnings of the rush-hour traffic.

At the hospital, he got out and opened her door.

"Get in front, Louise.  I shan't be long."

He was as good as his word; he was back within ten minutes and once
more joined the stream of traffic outside the hospital forecourt.  He
didn't speak and neither did Louise, largely because she could think of
nothing much to say.  Besides, she was struggling to feel like a
prospective sister-in-law; more difficult than she had thought it would
be.

The traffic was thinning a little before the doctor spoke.

"Well, did you enjoy your first day?"

"Oh, yes.  Very much.  Miss Squires is a dear, isn't she?  She took
care that I did the right thing, and I hope that I did.  It's quite
different from the wards, though."

"Indeed, yes.  Far fewer patients, but none the less in need of
help."

She relaxed; this was safe ground upon which to hold a conversation.

"Do you have many private patients?"

"Yes, and quite a few of them away from London.  I'm travelling up to
Scotland next week, and I shall want you to come with me."

"Oh--to stay?  For how long?"

"One night, perhaps two.  My patient is a charming old man who lives in
a remote mansion.  Too ill to make the journey down here.  Remind me to
give you the details tomorrow."

"Yes, but what about Zoe and..."

"Would you agree to Miss Wills spending the night at Ivy Cottage?  She
could see to Dusty and make sure that everyone got off in the
morning."

"Well, yes..."  She sounded hesitant and he added, "She will have no
objection.  Indeed, I understand that she isn't too happy living with
her sister."

"How do you know that she won't mind?"

"I asked her."  She heard the amusement in his voice and bristled.

"You arranged it all behind my back!  I'm not sure that I want to go to
Scotland.  Zoe and the others have never been on their own."

"Zoe is quite old enough to cope, surely?  I have had the impression
that she would be capable of running a household easily enough."

A remark which brought her up short; it would never do to sow the seeds
of doubt in his mind about Zoe's capabilities.  Even if he were head
over heels in love with her, he would want a wife capable of running
his home and entertaining his guests.

"Zoe is very capable," she said stiffly.

"She can always call upon Miss Wills if she gets worried about
anything.  Besides, we shall drive up on Sunday and they will all be at
home."

He eased the car past a bulk carrier; they were almost at Much
Hadham.

"You will come?"  It sounded more like a statement than a question.

"Very well."  She felt the surge of excitement again, although her
voice was as serene as it usually was.

"Good; I'll fill you in tomorrow.  I shall be at Stevenage, so Zoe will
be able to go home at lunch time--I'll pick her up and take her back to
the office.  I'll be in just after two o'clock and we may be working
late.  I'll take you back with me--it will be some time after six
o'clock, I should imagine."

He turned his head to look at her in the dimness of the car.

"It must seem disorganised to you after working in hospital."

"Well, yes, but it makes a change and I think I shall enjoy it, and I'm
very grateful..."

He cut her short.

"I'm the one who is grateful."  He slowed as they reached the village,
and stopped before her door which was instantly flung open as her
sisters and brother surged out, Dusty barking at their heels.

"Louise, there you are!"  exclaimed Zoe, uttering the obvious.

"And Aldo--come in and have a cup of coffee?"

He shook his head, smiling down at her.

"No time.  Ask me again some time.  Louise will tell you what we have
arranged for tomorrow.  I'll fetch you from the office-you get an hour
from twelve-thirty, don't you?  --bring you here so that you can see to
Dusty, and pick you up again to drive you back.  Louise will explain
what we have in mind."  He got back into the car after a few words with
Mike and Christine, nodded casually to Louise and drove away.

Louise was borne inside and presently they all sat down to supper, a
meal which went on for some time since there was so much to talk about.
When the younger ones had gone to bed, Louise explained abut the plans
she and Aldo had made for Zoe.

"If you could arrange something, love," begged Louise.

"Dusty will be all right if you could manage to get here for lunch each
day, take him for a ten-minute trot and get a bus back.  Aldo says that
he will drive you to and fro when he goes to Stevenage, so that only
leaves four days.  If it's impossible, he suggested that Miss Wills
might help out."

"Not to worry," declared Zoe "I'm sure they won't mind at the office.

I'm not all that important you know.  I'll fix something up tomorrow.

Did you really like your day working for Aldo?  "

"Oh, yes.  Of course, it's not like ward work, but I've always liked
working for him; he is very calm and unhurried, you know and I'm so
used to his ways."

Zoe got up to put on the kettle for a last cup of tea before bed.

"It's funny, you only know him as a consultant, and I suppose that
carries a kind of aura, but I've never seen him being a doctor.  He's
just a very attractive man to me, and great fun to be with."

Louise fetched the tea-tray.  She thought a little wistfully that very
likely he was, but it seemed unlikely that she would ever get more than
a glimpse of that side of him.  She said matter-of factly "I dare say
he is.  His patients like him."

She was up betimes in the morning to catch the train and then get a bus
to Wimpole Street.  Miss Squires had just arrived and was busy sorting
the post.  She bade Louise good morning and continued, "Such a lot of
invitations the doctor gets, you would have no idea... Very much in
demand he is, socially.  Him not being married and so handsome.

He refuses most of them; he has got a number of friends though, but
that is to be expected, isn't it?  Amazing that some woman hasn't
caught his eye.  I asked him one day why he didn't marry, and do you
know what he said?

"If I can't find my dream girl, I'll stay single."

Of course, I've worked for him for so long, he doesn't mind what he
says to me.  " She went on in a severe voice, " Of course, he's not one
to talk about himself.  "

When Louise said warmly, "No, I am sure he's not," she added, "You're a
sensible girl, I can see that, and not one to gossip."

They went about their various chores then, stopping for coffee, and
presently they were ready for the afternoon's work.  Miss Squires went
out for lunch and Louise retired to the kitchen and made a pot of tea
to wash down her sandwiches.  Dr.  van der Linden arrived when he'd
said he would, and ten minutes later came the first of his patients, a
crusty old man, wheezing his way into the consulting room with chronic
bronchitis.  He was irritable and impatient, but the doctor dealt with
him gently and Louise, taking her cue from him, met the old man's
crustiness with a serenity which remained untroubled by his ill humour.
As she showed him out at length, he paused at the door.

"You are a sensible young woman, no flummery about you--can't bear
flummery."

The next patient was one she recognised at once: Mr.  Tom Cowdrie,
accompanied by his wife.  He had come for a check-up, and Louise was
surprised to see Mrs.  Cowdrie with him.  There she was, fussing round
him in a devoted wifely way, the very antithesis of her former
behaviour at St.  Nicholas's.  She was beautifully dressed and
exquisitely made-up and overflowing with charm.  Louise, who hadn't
liked her when they had first met, disliked her more now.

She insisted on going into the consulting room with her husband, and
Louise, standing discreetly in the background, watched her get to work
upon the doctor, who greeted her with suave politeness and then turned
his attention to his patient, affording Louise a good deal of
satisfaction; it annoyed Mrs.  Cowdrie, but her best efforts made no
impression on his bland manner.  Louise showed them out with a deep
sense of complacency.

The patient who followed was a different kettle of fish; a small,
elderly lady, dressed with elegant shabbiness, who thanked Louise
nicely as she was ushered in and advanced with outstretched hand to
greet the doctor.  She had a heart condition which was not going to get
any better, and the doctor treated her gently, at the ;

same time matching her matter-of-fact manner with his own.  When she
had gone and Louise had gone back to the examination room to tidy it,
he looked up from his desk to say, "A brave little lady.  I wish I
could do more for her.  Is there time for a cup of tea before the next
patient?"  He glanced at the list Miss Squires had put on his desk.

"You won't mind staying on after four o'clock?"

"Not in the least.  Doctor.  I'll get your tea."  He was writing when
she went back, and she saw that he was preoccupied so she said nothing,
but whisked herself away to share the teapot with Miss Squires before
the next patient arrived, It was almost six o'clock when the last
patient was ushered out.

Louise tidied up briskly, but all the same the doctor was waiting for
her when she emerged from the cloakroom ready to go home.  Miss Squires
had already left, and Louise muttered an apology as she nipped round
closing doors and switching off the lights.  As they got into the car
he said, "I'll be at St.  Nicholas's in the morning, so I can drive you
here--be ready by eight-thirty, will you?  I've only three or four
patients for tomorrow afternoon, so you should be able to get away on
time.  Are the trains convenient?"

Even if they hadn't been she would have said yes.

He said in his calm way, "Now, about Scotland.  We will drive up on
Sunday, leaving early--seven o'clock.  We can stop for breakfast on the
way, and with another stop for lunch we should be at Dirleton round
about tea time.  I'll see my patient on Monday morning, and confer with
his doctor, and then I shall need to talk to him; I doubt if we will
leave that day.  If possible I should like to leave after breakfast on
Tuesday, and we will be back here the same evening, for I have a round
at Stevenage on Wednesday morning."

Louise digested this with her usual serenity.

"Where is Dirleton?"  was her only response.

"On the Firth of Forth, about half an hour's drive from Edinburgh.

It's on the south shore of the Firth.  We stay the night at my
patient's house.  "

"You would like me to wear uniform?"

"Please.  My patient is bedridden; at present his wife and daughter
manage, but he will need a nurse, although I believe he doesn't want
that."  He glanced at her.

"Understood?"

"Yes, thank you.  Am I to know more about your patient before I meet
him?"

"I'll give you the notes to read tomorrow."

He drove in silence after that until he stopped at Ivy Cottage.  It had
been like doing a ward round in a car, thought Louise, bidding him a
sedate goodnight.

"Don't keep me waiting in the morning."  He drove off with the briefest
of good nights

She went into the house and found everyone in the kitchen getting
supper.  Zoe looked up from the eggs she was beating.

"Hello, Louise--did Aldo bring you back?  Didn't he want to come in?.
He stayed for a cup of coffee when he brought me back for lunch--he is
such fun, isn't he?"

Obviously that had something to do with the person he was with, thought
Louise, and she smiled in what she hoped looked like agreement.

"I fixed up my lunch hour--no problems, the buses fit in beautifully;

I'll have time to take Dusty for a walk.  " She eyed Louise.

"Are you tired?"

Christine, setting knives and forks on the table, chimed in, "Of course
she's tired.  I'll make a pot of tea while supper is cooking."

Over supper, Louise explained about going to Scotland.

"I'll be away for two days and two nights; it's miles away, isn't it?
Dr--that is, Aldo suggested that Miss Wills might come each day and see
to things.

Do you think that is a good idea?  She will sleep here, too; it seems
she's not too happy with her sister.  She can have my room.  "

Zoe looked pleased.

"Do you suppose she would?  I could go to the tennis club on Monday
evening if she was here... Is Aldo going to arrange it for us?"

"Good heavens, he won't want to be bothered with our piffling
arrangements, I'll go and see her tomorrow evening."

"Well, I don't see why he wouldn't want to.  After all, he does keep an
eye on us, doesn't he?  Like a nice big brother--or even a husband or
boyfriend."  Christine spoke reflectively.

"Whose husband?"  asked Mike, and leaned across the table to tug at her
hair.

"You're only a kid, and Zoe's too mooney and Louise wouldn't want to
marry him, would you, Louise?"

His eldest sister poured herself another cup of tea before she answered
him.

"It's a hypothetical question, isn't it?"  Her voice was as quiet and
sensible as it always was, while somewhere deep inside her an insistent
voice was telling her that there was nothing she would like better than
to marry Aldo.  With the blinding clarity of hindsight, she knew that
she had been in love with him for a long time without ever allowing
herself to acknowledge it.  So very unfortunate when he regarded her as
a useful nurse who happened to be needing a job when he had one to
offer and, moreover, was Zoe's elder sister.

She said cheerfully, "I've enough on my plate with you lot--a husband
would be the last straw!"  And she reflected wryly that she would have
to cultivate a sisterly affection for Aldo; if she started now, this
very minute, it might be possible.

Towards the end of a wakeful night, she knew it wasn't going to be
possible.  Instead it was going to be awkward, but she had been dealing
with awkward situations for some years now and she was quite good at
them.  Somehow or other she would have to maintain the pleasant, rather
stand-offish relationship she had had with Aldo, and never, never let
him guess that she loved him.

She rolled over in bed and buried her head in the pillow.  It would be
difficult, but she had always accepted a challenge.  She slept on this
uplifting thought.


CHAPTER SIX

louise awoke with the soothing thought that it was Friday, on Saturday
there were no patients and there would be no need to see Aldo.  As for
today, she was quite sure that she would be able to maintain her
habitual calm in his company.  She didn't feel quite so sure as she got
into the Jaguar beside him, but by dint of not looking at him and
enthusing about the delightful weather she prided herself on doing
rather well, despite the fact that her heart was thumping like a mad
thing and her cheeks were rather pinker than usual.

The doctor, an observant man, smiled to himself and encouraged her to
enthuse about the bright morning; he was a man of infinite patience,
prepared to wait for what he wanted.  At his rooms he gave her the
notes on the old gentleman he was going to see, saying easily, "We can
discuss the case as we go.  I have no spare time today."

Which was true enough; there were more patients than usual, and he went
to St.  Nicholas's too, telephoning just before four o'clock to tell
her that he would not be able to drive her back to Much Hadham.

When Louise told Miss Squires, that lady said comfortably, "He's a very
careful man, takes great care of his patients--someone very ill, I dare
say.  Anyway, he had an invitation for this evening--some dinner party
or other in Sloane Square."

She began to tidy her desk.

"If you get straight, there's no reason why we shouldn't leave on time.
I'll set the answering machine.  You will need a nice quiet day
tomorrow, ready for Sunday; the doctor doesn't spare himself, so I warn
you.  Mrs.  Pratt got exhausted.  He tends to drive for hours, you
know."

"Thanks for warning me," said Louise.  She didn't think she would mind
that, even if he didn't speak to her, or forgot she was there; it
wouldn't matter.  She would be sitting beside him, watching his large,
capable hands on the wheel.  Never mind the problematical future, she
reflected, the present would do very nicely for the moment.

On Sunday she was ready by a quarter to seven.  The other three were in
dressing-gowns, hovering around her as though she were off to the ends
of the earth.  She had packed a small case with two clean overalls, her
navy belt with the silver buckle, black stockings and sensible duty
shoes and, urged by both her sisters, was wearing a cotton jersey skirt
and blouse with their matching jacket, an outfit she had bought the
previous year and seldom worn.  It was a soft blue and, as they pointed
out to her, wouldn't crush if she had to sit still for hours on end.

Never mind if she had intended to keep it for special occasions; if
this wasn't a special occasion, said Christine forcefully, she would
like to know what was.

They crowded to the door as the Jaguar drew up, and amid a welter of
good mornings to Aldo, goodbyes to herself and a string of reassurances
as to how they would manage without her, Louise got into the car.

The doctor gave her a little nod and an approving glance.  She looked
very pretty; she also looked nicely dressed in an understated way and
as neat as a new pin, and perfectly composed.  He gave a final wave to
the group in the doorway and started the car.  Louise turned to wave,
too, but she did not speak; she was full to the brim with excitement
and happiness, but they were well hidden.  To her companion this was
all part of his work; probably he would spend most of the long journey
mulling over his patient's prospects.

It seemed that that might be so, for he didn't speak for quite a
time.

They had driven across country to join the main road to Royston, and
then the long stretch to Huntingdon and the Al.  Louise, aware of empty
insides, thought that once they were on that, her companion would
settle down to drive without stopping.  He hadn't mentioned
breakfast;

he might have changed his mind about the plan to have it on the way and
have had a meal before they left.  Her cup of tea, taken at six
o'clock, seemed a poor substitute.

They went through Huntingdon without pause and now the Al was only a
mile or so away, so it was with the greatest relief to her when he drew
up smoothly before the Brampton Hotel.  The town was still only half
awake on a Sunday morning, but the place looked welcoming.

"Breakfast?"  asked Louise hopefully.

The doctor's mouth twitched.

"Hungry?  Good.  Make a good meal, for we have a long stretch ahead of
us."  With which ominous words he got out of the car and came to open
her door for her and usher her into the hotel.

Louise paused inside the vestibule and the doctor said, "Over there,
behind those potted palms; I'll be in the breakfast room."  He added,
"We have half an hour."

Louise didn't waste time on her face and hair;

indeed; she still looked remarkably fresh and tidy.  Hunger hurried her
to the breakfast room where she found the doctor lounging at the table,
reading The Sunday Times.  He put it down as she joined him, and they
sat down to a well-laden table.  Twenty minutes later they rose from
it, having eaten with good appetites, and Louise prudently disappeared
behind the potted palms once more; the doctor had mentioned a long
stretch; for all she knew they might not stop until they were in
Scotland.

They were on the Al now, making for Grantham and then Newark.  The
doctor, with the air of a man who was enjoying himself, talked of this
and that in a casual fashion, so that presently Louise found that she
was enjoying herself mightily; the journey was taking on the air of a
day's outing.  No mention had been made of his patient, but there was
time enough.

She asked, "You've been this way before?"

"Several times.  We should be at Scotch Corner in just under four hours
from Much Hadham, and that includes the stop for breakfast.  There is a
stretch of motorway soon, but we rejoin the Al again; we can stop for
coffee at Wetherby."

He glanced down at her.

"There's a road map in the pocket beside you..."

She was relieved to see that, at the rate they were travelling, coffee
wasn't all that far off.

They stopped at Wetherby as Aldo had promised; the hotel was large and
modern and the coffee was excellent.  Much refreshed, she faced with
equanimity the prospect of the stretch ahead of them; Scotch Corner,
she was told, then the motorway to Newcastle and pick up the Al to the
north of the city and on to Berwick-on- Tweed.

"Tired?"  asked Aldo.

She answered with perfect truth that she wasn't.

"This car is very comfortable," she observed, 'and you have very
well--I mean, I'm not in the least nervous.  "

He thanked her gravely and asked her if she drove herself.

"Well, years ago I did, but we sold the car... As soon as I can I will
get Zoe to learn and get her a licence."

He nodded.

"You're an exemplary elder sister, Louise."

She flushed.

"That makes me sound like a frightful bossy prig."

"The very last thing you are.  Now, suppose that I fill you in about my
patient?"

Which he did while the miles were left behind, and presently they were
on the motorway with the city ahead of them.  The traffic, even on a
Sunday, was thick now, and she fore bore from asking any more
questions, although she thought that the doctor was perfectly capable
of driving and answering her queries at the same time.  Surely he must
be feeling tired by now?  It was after one o'clock and, according to
the map, there was still a good distance to go.

"Lunch at Ainwick," said Aldo, and put his foot down.

The hotel, when they reached it, was old but extremely comfortable.

They lunched off game soup, hunter's chicken with buttered rice and
creme souffle a I'orange and drank tonic water since the doctor was
driving and Louise had no wish to drink wine unless he did so.  They
didn't sit over their coffee; she was given ten minutes in which to put
herself to rights then she was ushered back into the car, on what would
be the last stage of their long journey.

They covered the thirty odd miles to Berwickupon-Tweed in a little over
half an hour, and then followed the coast until the road turned inward
for a short distance, turning back again to the sea, but once through
Dunbar the doctor turned off the Al at last, following a road which
twisted and turned until finally it brought to view a ruined castle
perched on a hill.

"Dirleton," said Aldo.  He didn't sound in the least tired, and Louise,
who had been fighting a strong desire to sleep for the last few miles,
sat up straight to look.

The village was at the foot of the hill, its cottages encircling a
green which led to the church.  It looked delightful and she said so.

"Charming, isn't it?"  he agreed.

"The shore isn't too far away.  A pity there will be no time to
explore."

The house they were bound for was a little way out of the village; a
grey stone edifice a good deal smaller than the vast mansion they could
see in the distance, but none the less a building to command respect.
It was approached through a small park shielded from the sea wind by a
group of conifers.  The doctor drew up on the sweep before the front,
door and got out.  As he opened her door he said quietly, "Don't be
nervous.  After we have seen the general you will be led away to your
room; change into uniform if you will and then come downstairs again.
I'll look out for you."

The door opened as they approached it.  The man standing there greeted
them austerely; he was elderly, but his eyes were a bright blue and he
held himself erect.  The doctor addressed him easily and his stern
features relaxed into a smile,

but he didn't smile at Louise when the doctor introduced him to her,
only gave her a long, considered look.

He led them through a chilly hall, its walls panelled with dark wood
and ornamented with stuffed tigers' heads and any number of other
creatures Louise couldn't put a name to.  Sandwiched between these were
lethal weapons, arranged artistically in squares and circles.  She
caught the doctor's eye and looked away quickly;

he looked serious enough, but she thought that he was amused, probably
at her.  She walked beside him, very much on her dignity; love him she
might, but that didn't prevent her finding him tiresome.  Tiresome, she
had to admit honestly, only because for half the time she had no idea
what he was really thinking.  "

The room they entered was rather like the hall, but on a smaller scale,
and had the benefit of a large fireplace in which burned a cheerful
fire.  There were one or two comfortable chairs, too, and from one of
them rose a tall, thin lady, well past middle age, wearing a twin set
and a tweed skirt, both of excellent quality but of no particular
colour.  She had a long face and a high bridged nose, but her smile was
charming.

"Dr.  van der Linden, what a pleasure to see you again, and you have
brought your nurse with you..."

Louise was introduced and, after a brief murmur, retired a little
behind the doctor's vast bulk until, the civilities done with, they
were led across the room to a chair by the fire where the general sat.
He was dozing, which gave her the chance to take stock of him.  He was
an ill man, congestive heart failure; she would have seen that for
herself without the doctor's meticulous priming.  He must have been a
handsome man when he was young; even now, though he was old and ill, he
had good looks, with white hair and a big moustache.

He opened his eyes suddenly, fixed her with a stare and barked in a
wheezing voice, "Who are you, miss?  Haven't seen you before, have

I? "

He saw the doctor then.

"Ha, you're here.  Man of your word, aren't you?  Said you would be
here for tea.  I'm not in the mood be mauled about this evening.
Charles Donaldson will be here early tomorrow, you can put your heads
together and go over me in the morning."  He added defiantly, "I got
out of my bed.  Don't see why I shouldn't, do you, eh?"

The doctor agreed calmly, merely remarking that his nurse would need to
deal with one or two trifling procedures that evening.

"Sister Payne is very efficient," he added soothingly, 'and it will
merely be a matter of a test or two.  "

"Oh, well, I suppose you know what you are about," conceded the general
grumpily, and since he was short of breath he said no more.

"You would like tea?"  asked his wife.

"But first I'll get someone to take Sister Payne to her room-such a
long journey-you must be tired."

An elderly maid led Louise upstairs and along a narrow corridor, to
open a door at its end.  The room was well furnished, but austere;
there were no flowers and few ornaments, and the polished floor struck
chill as she kicked off her shoes to ease her feet.  But the view from
the window was a delight; the castle, silhouetted against the early
evening sky, was quite magnificent.  She left the window presently,
changed into her white overall, put on her sensible shoes and smoothed
her hair under the cap she wore at the doctor's rooms, and then went
downstairs.

The general's wife was sitting behind a small table in the
drawing-room, pouring tea from a silver teapot into paper-thin cups.

The same maid who had shown her to her room handed the cups and
saucers, proffered small sandwiches and little cakes and then, at a
word from her mistress, left the room.  Louise exchanged small talk
with the lady of the house while she watched the doctor, quite at his
ease, making a good tea while listening to the general puffing and
blowing his way through army reminiscences.

Presently the old man said, "Dare say you would like a breath of fresh
air after being in the car all day.  You know your way around.  Take a
walk in the grounds.  Perhaps Sister Payne would like to accompany
you?"

So Louise found herself strolling along the wide paths behind the
house, a shawl borrowed from her hostess around her shoulders, for the
evening was cool, with the doctor beside her.  They made a striking
pair and, from a distance,

romantic, too, only anyone near enough to listen to their conversation
would have been disappointed to hear the doctor, in a dry-as-dust
voice, discussing his patient with his companion, for all the world as
though they were walking down the centre of a hospital ward instead of
on a flower-bordered path with a charming vista ahead of them.

Someone, a long time ago, had had the grounds laid out with an eye to
making the most of the terrain.  There was a small fountain at the end
of the path and a grotto away to their left, reached by another path,
and a miniature Greek temple on a gentle rise to their other side.

Louise, saying 'yes, certainly', and "I quite understand', and, " I'll
see that it's done.  Doctor', reflected that it was a terrible waste to
carry on such a businesslike conversation in such surroundings.

"You're not listening to a word," said Aldo mildly.

She said guiltily, "Oh, I am.  I know exactly what you want me to do..
"

He said drily, "The surroundings are hardly conducive to such dry talk.
I believe that your head is full of roses and moonshine, and you are
wondering about the men and women who may have walked here in more
romantic circumstances.  " Well, it is romantic, you know.  Grottoes
and things," she added vaguely, and thought how wonderful it would be
if he were to take her in his arms and kiss her, a hollow hope.

He turned her round smartly.

"In which case, I think it advisable not to visit the grotto."  A
remark which made her face flame in the gathering dusk.  Just in case
he had thought that she was making a play for him, she became at once
haughty and coldly polite.  Detestable, horrible man; once back at home
she would avoid him like the plague.

Never, never, she promised herself, would he get the chance to say
anything like that again.  She shivered with her strong feelings, and
he said at once, "You're cold, we have stayed out too long."

"It seemed a long time," she agreed sweetly, and because of the
gathering darkness didn't see his raised eyebrows and then his brief
smile.

Dinner was eaten in some splendour in a gloomy dining-room furnished
with beautifully polished dark oak, worn with age, but the table linen
was crisply white and set with fine china and silver.  The general,
being on a diet, was inclined to be grumpy, but his wife and Aldo
carried on a practised conversation born of coping with difficult
situations.  Not quite his bedside manner, reflected Louise, but
something approaching it.  It quite obviously soothed his somewhat
irascible patient.

The general retired to bed presently, and after a suitable interval
Louise went along to see to the various tasks the doctor had asked her
to do.  Pulse and blood pressure and temperature and respirations, an
intake and output chart to cover twenty-four hours, a measured carafe
of water set by the bedside and finally her firm request that it should
be drained by eight o'clock in the morning.

"Been nursing long?"  enquired the general.  In bed now, he had relaxed
and even looked goodnatured.

"Years and years," she told him, 'but almost always in hospital.  "

"Ought to be married, a pretty girl like you."

She smiled at him.

"You know.  General, I've not had the time; my parents are dead and I
have a younger brother and two sisters."

The old man snorted.

"Don't tell me you are content with your lot."

"Oh, but I am," she assured him cheerfully, 'until circumstances
change.  They do, you know.  "

"Mustn't discuss the doctor with you, I suppose?"

"I think not.  I work for him, you see.  Besides, I think he is a fine
man and a splendid physician.  Can I do anything more for you.
General?

Do you like to read for a while, or shall I turn off the lights?  "

"I shall read for an hour or so.  Besides I dare say van der Linden
will be along presently."

"Then I'll say goodnight."

Outside on the wide corridor leading to the staircase she paused,
wondering if she should go back downstairs or go straight to her
room.

She decided to go back to the drawing-room, wish her hostess goodnight
and then go to bed.

The doctor got up as she went into the room, and the general's wife put
down the needlework she was doing.

"I'll go and say goodnight," she said, 'then you can go up presently.
Doctor.  The general sets great store by a visit from you.  "

He held the door for her and closed it quietly behind her.

"Do sit down."  She did as he suggested.

"Did everything go well upstairs?"

Louise perched on the edge of a small upright chair.  She said, "Yes,
thank you," in a chilly voice and added, "If there is nothing more for
me to do, I'll go to bed."

He said mildly, "We have spent the whole of a long day in each other's
company in unqualified amiability, but I detect a certain frostiness in
your manner, Louise.  What have I done--or not done?"

She gave him a startled look.

"Done?  I don't understand you."  She embarked on a string of remarks
which became more and more tangled, while he sat quietly, watching her,
saying nothing, but presently he took pity on her and said gravely, "I
dare say you are tired, Louise.

I'll explain to our hostess when she returns, and bid her goodnight on
your behalf.  "

"I'm not tired," began Louise, and then stopped when she saw him
smile.

"Goodnight," she said stonily, and made for the door.  Not quite
quickly enough; he was there before her, his hand on the doorhandle so
that perforce she had to come to a halt.

He was much too close for her peace of mind.  She caught her breath and
steadied it deliberately, her eyes fixed on the massive chest before
her.  It would have been nice to lay her head upon it and have a good
cry.  He said slowly, "I asked you just now what I had done or not
done.

There was no need because I already know, Louise.  " He paused and
sighed.

"I did it deliberately, but this is neither the time nor the place to
explain."

"No need," she told him, and now she was quite matter of fact, 'and I'm
sorry I was snappy.  I think I am more tired than I realised.  " She
managed a quite normal smile.

"I did enjoy the drive, though."

He had opened the door, and was looking down at her with an expression
hard to read.

"So did I. Goodnight, Louise."  He sounded all of a sudden very
austere.

She did not sleep well; she told herself it was the strange
bedroom--chilly, she guessed, because it was seldom slept in.  But it
wasn't entirely due to her cold feet that she lay awake for such a long
time; somehow, at some time, things had changed between Aldo and
herself.  It had been an effort to maintain the casual friendly
attitude towards him once she had discovered that she was in love with
him, but she had done her best for Zoe's sake; at all costs they must
remain friends if she were to become his sister- in-law, but now she
wasn't at all sure if he liked her.  After all, she reasoned, until
recently he had had no need to be more than polite when they met each
other in the hospital; now he saw more of her he might not like her at
all, even though he was in love with Zoe.  She got out of bed and put
on her dressing-gown and back she got in again, curling her feet into
its warmth.  Really, life was very strange; on the one hand good
fortune had smiled on her, offering her Ivy Cottage and a little money
in the bank so that Mike and Christine could go to decent schools and
Zoe could have some fun" and then, just as she was feeling smug and
secure, she had lost her job and, what was much worse, had fallen in
love with Aldo, who was Zoe's... She fell at last into a troubled
sleep, to be wakened by the elderly maid with early-morning tea.

She got up at once and dressed; there were things to do for the
general, and probably he would object to most of them.

The house was quiet as she went along the wide corridor to the front of
the house.  She was passing the head of the stairs when she glanced
down and saw that the doctor was in the hall.  He looked up and came up
the stairs two at a time.

She had not expected to see him, although she had been thinking about
him from the moment she opened her eyes, so that the colour rushed into
her face and she stammered a little as she wished him good morning.

He stood looking at her, his own greeting laconic, although his eyes
had missed nothing.

"You slept well?  Your room is at the back, isn't it?  Mine is at the
other end of the corridor; if I had wanted your help in an emergency it
would have been a day's march to reach you!"

Louise chuckled, just for a moment forgetting her mixed-up feelings.

"That's better, you looked as though you were carrying the world's
cares on your shoulders."  And, at her look, "You see, last time I came
here for a consultation, I had Mrs.  Pratt with me;

middle-aged and businesslike and motherly; you are far too pretty for
the job, Louise.  " He stared at her thoughtfully.

"I'm wrong, you're not pretty, you're beautiful."

Before she could close her astonished mouth to ask him if he had lost
his wits, he had gone, walking rapidly away towards his room without
looking back.

Not a good start to the day, thought Louise, her feelings now in such a
turmoil, she had no idea how to sort them out.  Common sense prevailed.
She tapped on the general's door and went in, looking efficient and
serene and capable of dealing with any situation which might arise.

The general disapproved of illness, his own most of all.  He had a
theory that if one ignored whatever it was that was wrong with one, it
would go away.  He explained this at some length to Louise, so that
time was lost before she could cajole him into allowing her to take his
temperature and pulse, and his blood pressure, and check that he had
drunk his carafe of water.  She was quite surprised to find that he
had.

She adjourned to the bathroom to make the few simple tests the doctor
needed, listened with sympathy to his grumbles about the miserable diet
he was forced to endure and presently went down to her breakfast.

The family doctor would be arriving shortly; she didn't suppose that
she would be required to attend the consultation, but she would have to
remain within calling distance in order to iron out any little problems
the learned gentlemen might have, take notes, find things for them and
probably pour their coffee.  Later she would have to be in attendance
while they examined their patient.

The elderly man who had opened the door to them was in the hall.  His
good morning was uttered gloomily, but she guessed that that was his
normal expression.  He led her to a small room at the back of the hall
where breakfast had been laid.  There was no one there and she sat down
with a sigh of relief, for she didn't want to meet Aldo for a little
while, not until she had regained her habitual calm.  She had allowed
her love to cloud her common sense.  He had been joking; perhaps he
felt that she needed cheering up.  She accepted coffee from the butler,
took a boiled egg from the dish he offered her and began on her
solitary meal.  She had almost finished when the doctor joined her, and
with a brief smile sat down to his own coffee and eggs.

"You've seen the general?"  he wanted to know.

"What do you think of him?  Give me some kind of report, will you,
before I go and see him?"

Which made it quite easy, after all, for she slipped back into
impersonal professionalism without effort.

He nodded when she had finished.

"Dr.  Donaldson will be here directly;

we'll have a chat and then see the general.  I shall want you there.

After lunch an ambulance will take him into Edinburgh to be X-rayed;

you will go with him and remain with him.  I'll be there, too, of
course.  Dr.  Donaldson will come back later today, and we will discuss
what's best to be done.  We will leave after breakfast in the morning.
"

Louise said, "Very well," in a composed voice, and then, "You will
excuse me if I go, there are one or two things..."

He said blandly, "I thought there might be."  A remark which she viewed
with suspicion.

In fact, there was nothing for her to do; the general had refused her
services in a whispered roar.

"Can't stop you taking temperatures and so on, but I'm damned if you
are going to wash me.  Miss... What's your name?"

"Louise, General.  All right, I won't wash you."  She smiled at him.

"But I will have to be here with the doctors--to turn back bed covers
and hand them things and help them generally.  You won't mind that?"

He actually chuckled.

"A pretty girl like you?  Shan't mind at all."

Presently she went downstairs to be introduced to Dr.  Donaldson, who
was youngish, rugged featured and a little in awe of Dr.  van der
Linden;

she left them together and went to sit with her hostess in the
drawing-room, carrying on a light conversation calculated to keep that
lady's mind occupied with anything but her husband's condition.  It was
gone eleven o'clock before she was summoned to go upstairs to the
general's room, where the two doctors carried out a lengthy
examination.

Louise, standing out of the way, felt a flow of pleasure at the way
Aldo treated both his patient and Dr.  Donaldson, his manner exactly
right:

relaxed--modest, she reflected, was the right word--and yet full of
assurance.  She remained behind when they at last left their patient,
tidied the bed, recommended that he should remain in bed for his lunch
and, when he protested, pointed out that the afternoon would be rather
tiring.

"You will come with me?"

"Yes, Dr.  van der Linden has asked me to do so."

"Like working for him?"

"Yes, very much."  She willed herself not to blush, but did, to her
annoyance.

When she went downstairs again the two doctors were still conferring,
but very shortly Dr.  Donaldson well away with the promise to return
after the general was back from Edinburgh, and Aldo went to talk to his
wife.

Louise, with nothing to do for the moment, wandered outside on to the
terrace and sat down on the wall separating it from the lawns below.
She would have liked to have explored, but she didn't dare go far from
the house in case she was needed.  After lunch she would have to
oversee her patient's passage to the ambulance and go with him to the
hospital.  Aldo would be there, but even if she saw him there it would
be in a professional capacity, and Dr.  Donaldson would be back in the
evening and probably stay for a time.  Tomorrow she would be with Aldo
all day.  She became aware that he was standing beside her and she got
to her feet.

"You wanted me for something?"

He shook his head.

"Sit down again, Louise," and, when she did, he sat beside her.

"The general's condition has worsened since I saw him last.  I've
changed his drugs and agreed on his treatment with Donaldson.  I've
talked to his wife, top.  There is really very little that I can do,
I'm afraid; they are both aware of that.  Donaldson is a good chap and
the general is in good hands.  He will be tired by the time he gets
back here;

you'll see him into his bed and comfortable, I know-he has taken a
fancy to you.  He will have to have a nurse in the house; I've promised
to see if the hospital can lend him one as pretty as you--his words not
mine.  "

Louise's charming bosom swelled with indignation; she had been
listening to him with increasing sympathy and interest, and he had to
spoil it all.  Perhaps he wanted to make sure that she hadn't taken him
seriously yesterday evening.  Well, she hadn't and she never would.

She said, "How kind of him.  I'm sure you will find someone.  He really
does need a nurse.  I like him."

"So do I. You're not sorry you came?"

The?  No, why should I be?  I haven't had much to do, though.  "

"You've been my right hand."

The afternoon went off well.  True, the drive in the ambulance was
tiring, partly because the general had become peevish and it took all
Louise's skill to prevent him bursting out into a rage, something which
would have done him no good at all.

He was too tired to be cross by the time they got back.  Louise saw him
back into his bed, sat him against his pillows and gave him oxygen
until he had settled down.  Aldo, coming quietly into the room, sat
himself down by the bed and explained the results of the X-rays to his
patient.

"They could be worse," he told him in his level and unhurried voice,
'and we can prevent that happening.  Sister, I'm sure you would like a
cup of tea.  " His voice was smoothly firm.

"The general and I are going to have a talk."

"You'll let me know when you want me back, sir?"  She was at the door
already; she could take a hint as well as the next one.

Tea had been set for her in a little room she had not been into before.
There was no one about, but the teapot was hot under its cosy and there
were scones and buttered toast.  She eased her tired feet from their
shoes and sat down.

They left soon after eight o'clock the next morning; Dr.  Donaldson had
been back during the evening, and when he had gone Aldo went back to
talk to the general again.  When she had said goodbye to him just
before they left he had taken her hand and wheezed quite cheerfully,
"Always feel better when van der Linden has been.  Good chap he is,
trust him-believe him, too.  So does my wife."  He patted her hand.

"See that he brings you with him when he comes next time."

She smiled at him, for she liked him, and she admired his peppery
courage.  His wife had come to the door to see them off.

"Thank you for coming, Dr.  van der Linden.  You have no idea how much
easier we feel now that you have seen my husband again."

He took her hand and shook it gently.

"The general is holding his own and Dr.  Donaldson will keep him to it.
He will get in touch with me if he thinks it necessary."

He waited while Louise was thanked, and smiled a little when she was
bidden to return next time the doctor came.

"For the general likes you, my dear."

Louise got into the car, murmuring politely, and a moment later Aldo
was beside her and they had started their journey home.  The whole day
before them, she thought, and even if Aldo wasn't inclined to be
friendly he would be there beside her.  The journey up to Scotland had
been delightful; who knew if the return might not be even better?


CHAPTER SEVEN

it was a grey morning and chilly, with a strong wind blowing in from
the sea, but the car was warm and Louise settled into the comfortable
seat and sat silent.  Aldo had nothing to say for a time, and she
contented herself with looking at the country around them until he
spoke finally.

"There's a good B road from Grantshouse--it will take us eventually to
Kelso --we go through Duns and Preston--nice border country."

Louise was peering at the map, glad that he had broken a silence which
had gone on for too long.

"And where do we go from there?"

"Jedburgh--we'll have coffee there, bypass Otterbum on the A68 to
Darlington and after that on to the Al.  We might lunch somewhere
around there--it is round about two hundred and fifty miles home from
there."  He glanced at her, smiling a little.

"You're not in a hurry to get back, are you?  I thought we might have
dinner at Oakham--there is a good hotel there and it is only a mile or
two out of our way."

When she didn't answer at once, he added, "I shall be glad of a rest by
then."

A remark calculated to make her feel instantly mean and thoughtless.

"Oh, of course you must rest.  Isn't it a long way from York?"

"Not too far, we'll stop for a cup of tea somewhere."

"Have you been this way before?  I mean, you know just where to go,
don't you?"

"I have visited the general three or four times during the last year to
so--he was a patient of mine when they lived for most of the year in
London.  Besides, I travel around quite a lot, you know."  He was
looking straight ahead.

"I shall be going over to Holland shortly."

"Not for always?"  She was unaware of the dismay in her voice.

"No."  He sounded so cool suddenly; she was being nosy and, what was
more, almost on the verge of letting him see that she would mind if he
went away.

She said in a high voice, wooden with her efforts to sound casual,
"This is a very comfortable car for travelling..."

He agreed.

"So Mrs.  Pratt tells me."  His voice was silky and she sought wildly
for a neutral topic of conversation before he dealt her a polite
snub.

"Such a pity it looks like rain," she began chattily.

He agreed for the second time and added, "Rather worse than that, I
believe; I was told before we left that there is very bad weather
coming in from the northeast."

"Oh, but won't we be going south?  Away from it?"

"Hopefully.  Do you have a raincoat with you?"

"Yes."

He laughed a little.

"Of course you have--I can't imagine you being caught unawares about
anything or anyone, Louise."

Rather wide of the mark, she thought wryly, and made a matter-of-fact
observation about the scenery.

Kelso looked interesting but he didn't pause, driving on to Jedburgh
where he stopped at a pretty little cafe for coffee.  It was beginning
to rain as they got out of the car and the wind was gathering strength,
but the weather, as far as Louise was concerned, didn't matter; she was
with Aldo and she didn't intend to think about the future or anything
else until she was back home and he wasn't there any more.  Back in the
car, he picked up the phone.

"I told Zoe I would ring her up when we stopped for coffee."  He was
dialling the number and didn't look at her, and a moment later she
heard him say, "Zoe?

We're at Jedburgh.  I hope we will be back around about nine o'clock
this evening.  We shall have had a meal, so don't bother with any
cooking.  " He listened for a few moments, smiling, then, " If you are
still out of bed.  But I shall see you when I pick you up tomorrow.

Goodbye, my dear--have a word with Louise.  "

"I'm so glad you're on the phone," said Zoe in her ear.

"I've got this joint of lamb and I can't find your cookery book--how
long do I roast it for?"

"Twenty minutes to the pound and twenty minutes over--get the oven hot
first.  Are you managing?"

"Rather; Miss Wills is a trump.  She's just going off home in a minute
or two; she says she will pop in to see you tomorrow."

"Oh, good, dear.  See you when we get back this evening."

She handed the telephone back to Aldo, who said with some amusement,
"Having trouble with the roast?  And I gather Miss Wills has endeared
herself to the three of them.  Most convenient," he added
thoughtfully.

She pondered that, not quite sure what he meant, and concluded that it
meant nothing; she assured him that she was comfortable and they set
off once more.

They were in the Cheviot Hills now and the country, became dramatic,
the lowering sky making it even more so.  For a little while they drove
through Redesdale Forest, which shut out the worsening weather, but
presently they left the forest behind, in England again.  With Ellishaw
behind them the road ran ahead of them, lonely and bleak, and once they
had gone through Ridsdale there were no villages.  It was blowing a
gale now and the rain had turned into a steady downpour, so Aldo slowed
his speed.  There was almost no traffic, the road was a good one and he
drove with no sign of worry.  At this rate, thought Louise, we shall
never be home on time, but a delay of an hour or so wouldn't matter too
much.

They spoke little, but she sensed a pleasant feeling of ease between
them, like old friends who had no need to speak.  A pity it couldn't be
like this always, she thought wistfully; if she couldn't have his love
she would settle for his friendship.  As it was now, she still was not
certain if he liked her all that much.  As a nurse, yes, but as a
woman?  She didn't know.

They reached Corbridge and crossed the River Tyne and sped on,
bypassing Darlington, taking the main road to Scotch Corner and joining
the Al.  It was plain sailing now, thought Louise; the road ran due
south, and although there was more traffic Aldo was doing a steady
seventy miles an hour, despite the appalling weather.

She glanced out of the window and saw the ominous blackness of the
skyline and felt the wind gusting about the car.

"Nervous?"  asked the doctor.

"Not in the least," she told him, and meant it.

"This must be a freak storm.  Perhaps it won't last."

He grunted a reply, giving an elderly car a wide berth as he passed it.
She watched his hands on the wheel; the car was holding the road well,
but he was needing all his skill to drive.  All the same, they made
good time even though he took no risks, stopping for ten minutes or so
in a small village south of Doncaster for a quick cup of tea and a
sandwich in a convenient cafe, before driving on towards Newark.

There was a good deal of water on the road by now, and here and there
some flooding, and the rain was unceasing.  It was unnaturally dark, so
that the car's headlights reflected the rain and the doctor was forced
to slow his pace.  It wasn't all that far to go now;

the road bypassed Newark and twenty minutes later Grantham, and within
half an hour Aldo had turned off the road to take a country road to
Oakham.

There was even more water on this road, and the fields on either side
were waterlogged, but the hotel, standing pn high ground sloping down
to Rutland Water, was reasonably dry.  It was still early evening, but
already dark, and there were lights shining from most of the downstairs
windows.  Aldo stopped the car before the door and turned to look at
Louise.

"I suppose if I had been sensible I would have driven straight back
home because of this appalling weather, but something tells me that
would have been a tame ending, wouldn't it?  The least I can offer you
is a good dinner after your calm acceptance of a wretched journey."

She said in a small voice, "I didn't find it wretched; I enjoyed it."

"So did I."  He bent his head and kissed her swiftly and got out of the
car.  She was still getting over it when he opened her door and said
with impassive good humour, "Run for the door before you get soaked."

He draped her raincoat around her shoulders and she did as she was
told;

it was too wet and windy to argue.

The hotel was a splendid Victorian mansion,

and delightful.  She was led away to the powder room where she strove
to repair the wear and tear of their journey.  She was successful;

indeed, save for a few damp patches where the raincoat hadn't quite
covered her, she looked just as she always did: nicely made-up, her
hair smoothly waved and combed.  All the same, she frowned critically
at her reflection before she went to join Aldo.

He took her to the bar and guided her to a small table well away from
the counter.

"Sherry?"  he asked her, and, when she said, "Please," nodded to the
hovering waiter.

"And the menu, please."

The menu cards came with the drinks and she was glad of that for Aldo
was looking at her in a thoughtful way, half smiling, and she found it
disconcerting.  She buried her pretty nose in the menu and only glanced
up when he suggested that they should have an asparagus mousse with
chicken livers and truffles.

"And perhaps you like chicken?  The mousseline of chicken with
champagne sauce sounds good..."

It sounded mouth-watering.  She agreed and added simply, "I'm
hungry."

And she blushed rosily.

"What I mean is, I wasn't a bit hungry at lunch time.  The sandwiches
were really very nice..."

He regarded her gravely, although there was a really pronounced twinkle
in his eyes.

"Louise, why are you always so careful not to annoy me?  Am I such an
ogre?  Is that how you thought of me at St.  Nicholas's when I was
called in and disrupted your nights?"

"No, never, and--and I'm not careful, only I said something that made
me sound ungrateful.  Sometimes," she told him ingenuously, "I say
things that don't come out just as I mean them to."

"I must remember that."  He handed the menus back to the waiter and sat
back comfortably in his chair.

"How pleasant to sit and chat for a while."  His voice was bland.

"We had so little chance to talk at the general's house, and driving
conditions made conversation rather spasmodic."

Louise sipped her sherry.

"What do you want to talk about?"

"You."

The?  Whatever for?  "

"I know so little about you.  Until recently you were firmly entrenched
behind your uniform and very correct manner, and when I got to know you
rather better, you retreated behind a cool facade heavily larded with
domesticity.  Very hard to penetrate.  I must admit that just once or
twice you forgot who I was and talked to me as though I were a friend."
He said deliberately, "Don't you like me, Louise?"

"Yes, oh, yes--of course I do, but just like you, until recently I saw
you as a senior consultant whom I only met occasionally and knew
nothing about."  She had spoken with commendable calm, pleased with her
sensible answer.

"That is exactly what I had expected you to say.  One day you shall
give me the real answer."

It seemed best to ignore that.  She took another sip of sherry.

"Mike and Christine think you are super, and Zoe talks about you all
the time."

It was an opening if he wanted to talk about her sister, but it seemed
he didn't.

"And you, Louise--what do you think of me?"

She should have expected that.

"I don't know you well enough to know."

He laughed then, not, she thought, at her, but at something else which
he found amusing.  She put down her empty glass.

"This is a very pleasant hotel..."

"One of the best in the country."  He made no effort to enlarge upon
that, so she was left to seek another topic of conversation from a head
empty of all ideas.  It was fortunate that they were invited to go into
the restaurant, another splendid room which provided a talking point
for several minutes.

The food was delicious and she was hungry, but annoyance grew as the
meal progressed, for Aldo was leaving her to do the talking; answering
her readily but making no effort to introduce any ideas of his own.

Perhaps he was bored?  She cast a quick look at him across the table
and found his eyes fixed on her with a curious intentness, so much so
that she put up a hand to her hair to make sure that it hadn't come
loose from its french pleat.

He said gently, "There's nothing wrong.  I like it when you tie your
hair back."

She said weakly, "Oh, do you?  But that is only when I'm at home."  She
grew pink.

"I have to put it up when I'm in uniform or--or going out."

She heard herself babbling and she was quite unable to stop.

"Christine's got lovely hair, but Zoe has naturally waving hair and
it's as gold as guineas."

"Yes.  I had noticed."  His voice was dry.  He took the menu he was
offered.

"What would you like for a sweet?"

She bent her head over her own menu.

"Strawberry ice in a pastry case-that sounds heavenly.  I'd like that,
please."

He ordered it, and cheese for himself, and glanced at his watch.

"Should we be going?  Have we been here too long?"

He shook his head.

"No, I was wondering if it mattered very much if we didn't get back as
early as I said we would.  Half an hour over coffee in the drawing-room
here would be nice."

She said at once, "Well, could you not telephone Zoe and let her know?"
She added, "It's delightful here, isn't it?  I wonder if it's still
raining?"

The ice came and she ate it with unselfconscious pleasure, and
presently they went to the drawing-room and sat side by side on a
comfortable sofa before the fire with the coffee-table beside them.

They had been among the earliest diners and, beyond a handful of people
getting up a game of bridge at the other end of the large room, there
was no one else there.

Perhaps it was her surroundings or the splendid meal she had just had,
but Louise was no longer annoyed.  Aldo sat beside her, not saying
much, but somehow there didn't seem any need to talk.  Presently he
said quietly, "I think we should go; there's an hour and a half more to
drive."

She said, "Is that all?"  before she could stop herself and followed
that by a falsely bright, "It will be nice to be home again."

"You haven't enjoyed the trip?"

"I've loved every minute of it."  She checked herself just in time from
letting her tongue run away with her "Scotland is beautiful," she
finished tamely.

He put down his coffee-cup.

"Yes, we must go again some time."  A remark which left her wondering
what on earth he meant.

It was dark by now and still raining, but they made good time until
they reached the point on the Al where Aldo turned off to take the
crosscountry road which would bring them to Much Hadham.  There was
little traffic by now and Louise, lulled by the incessant rain, was
half asleep when she heard the doctor utter an outlandish word she
didn't understand--Dutch, she thought--and sat up, wide awake.

The road ahead of them was awash, and as he slowed the car the lights
picked out chaos.  The road turned in a gentle bend and on the bend
there had been a cottage, built sideways on to the road, its walls
protruding to its edge.  At least, they had protruded; now they lay in
a heap of rubble in the road, entangled with two twisted wrecks of
cars.

The doctor reached behind him and picked up his bag, opened his door
and shrugged into his car coat.

"Phone the police, Louise, and the ambulance and fire brigade, and then
stay here."

Nothing happened when she dialled.  She wasted minutes trying again and
again, and finally put the receiver back, struggled into her raincoat
and got out of the car.  Ahead of her she could see the wreckage quite
clearly in the car's lights, and someone was there with a torch.  Aldo,
she supposed.  She went back to the car and opened the glove
compartment and found what she had hoped for, another torch, and with
this in her hand she waded to where she had seen his light.  Now she
was near enough she could hear cries and voices calling and a baby
crying, but she didn't stop until she fetched up very wet and
breathless beside Aldo.

"The phone's dead," she told him, ignoring his angry voice telling her
to go back.

"And I'm not going back.  There is a baby crying; I'm going to find
it--it's in the house."

A hand clamped her to a standstill.

"You will not go into the house."

The doctor sounded furiously angry in a cold and quite frightening
way.

"It's liable to collapse at any moment."  He pushed his powerful torch
into her hand and took hers.

"There is a woman here, not too badly hurt;

get her out of the way--the other side of the road--there's a bank
there above the water.  "

She said urgently, "Aldo, take care..."  He had gone.

The woman was one of the lucky ones, dazed and bruised and half
hysterical, but easy to free from the remnants of the back of the
car.

Louise heaved her clear, helped her to the bank, bade her stay there
and went back to see who else she could free.  The water seemed to be
rising; it would be the small river alongside the road, one of several
which riddled the country roads around Stevenage and the surrounding
villages.  Louise knew where she was; the cottage was a lone dwelling
between the turnings to two villages.  They must have passed the lane
to Westmill, lying a little way off the road.  In this weather and on
such a dark night she doubted if anyone would have heard the crash
above the wind and the rain.  She set the torch down on a bit of
wreckage and began to ease out an elderly woman through a broken
door.

"Can you move everything?"  she asked.

"Will you try your legs?  I think your arms are all right."

The woman nodded and Louise bent to her task once more, to be
interrupted by the doctor.  He had a blanketed bundle under one arm,
while the other supported a young woman.

"Get them to the bank," he told Louise, and thrust the baby at her.

"Her husband is still inside.

He has a fractured leg.  We must get him out.  "

"Give me two ticks," said Louise.

The little house was still intact on the side furthest from the road,
but with each gust of wind a few more tiles came tumbling down, and the
groans and creaks of the woodwork became more ominous.  The man had
been in the kitchen, which was fortunate; she found broom handles and
tea towels with which to tie amateur splints and, while Aldo dealt with
them, collected an armful of nappies to serve as bandages.  The man was
young, thin and on the small side; the doctor heaved him up and waded
back across the road and laid his burden down by the others.

They were wet to the skin, but at least they were comparatively safe.

Aldo bent over the elderly woman.

"How many in your car?"  he asked her gently, and then straightened
up.

"The driver--we'd better get at him next.  There are two young
boys--teenagers--in the other car.  One is unconscious, the other is
cut about the face."

They toiled together to free the driver, unconscious too, which made it
easier to move him.  They got him clear at last and on to the bank and
roughly bandaged where he had cut his head, and as they made their way
through the flood Louise clutched Aldo's arm, shouting above the
wind.

"Look, I know where we are.  It's only ten minutes' Walk to a village
close by-there'll be a telephone there.  I'll try from there, if not
I'll get someone to go back to Buntingford.  There's a police house
there..."

"It's not safe for you to go."  For a moment he put a great arm around
her.

"But I'll have to let you do it, there's not any other way."

He pulled her close, almost breaking her ribs, and then let her go.

"Be careful!"  He turned away to help the two boys, and she began her
difficult scramble back to the turning.  The water wasn't so high here,
and she could get along faster, and presently she saw a few lights
ahead of her.  The village was small and she banged on the first door
she stumbled against.

No one came; she banged again and shouted, and this time the door did
open.  The man looked at her standing there, streaming water and
muddy.

"What's up, love?"  he asked, and then, over his shoulder,
"Mother..."

His wife peered over his shoulder, and Louise said urgently, "A
telephone--is there one here?  There's been a bad accident up on the
main road--the cottage and two cars, and the road is flooded."

The man was quick to understand.

"The telephone's across the road, but I doubt if it's working--I'll go
and see..."

The woman urged Louise inside and she stood dripping all over the floor
of the little hall, almost dancing with impatience.  He was back very
quickly.

"The line is dead."  He was getting into boots and winding a long scarf
over his jacket.

"I'll walk into Buntingford, there's a constable there.  You stay here,
miss, and dry off."

"Bless you for going, but I can't.  I'm travelling with a doctor; he's
there at the scene giving first aid--I'm a nurse, so I can give him
some help."

She was glad of the man's company along the lane, and at the main road
they parted without loss of time, he to make his way to Buntingford,
she back to the shambles by the cottage.

The doctor was bending over one of the young boys, examining his
head.

He looked up briefly.

"OK?"  and when she nodded, out of breath, "Good.

This boy is badly concussed; try and keep him still.  " He got to his
feet and started to make his way towards the house.

"Where are you going?"  Louise raised her voice in an urgent shout,
afraid to be left alone.

"Round the back of the house.  I'll be back."  He sounded so calm that
she felt ashamed of her anxious shout.  Once he had disappeared into
the darkness on the other side of the road she got down on her knees in
the water lapping the bank and did her best to hold down the boy.

She was a strong girl and well used to dealing with recalcitrant
patients, but he was a hefty youth and she had her work cut out, and
while she struggled with him, trying to keep him still, she worried
about the other figures lying or sitting around her; they all needed
attention, some more than others; she wished that Aldo would come
back.

When he did, a few moments later, he was carrying a shopping bag, and
by the car's headlights she could make out a cat inside; a greatly
frightened, bad-tempered cat, venting its fear on the night air, adding
to the groans and voices around her.  Beside him was a dog, splashing
along uttering short, enquiring barks.  The man from the cottage gave a
whistle and the dog scrambled to him, and the doctor handed the bag to
the man's wife.

The doctor paused for a moment, an enormous figure in the gloom, and
Louise knew why; there was a faint smell of burning, hot and rubbery;

she hoped that no one else had noticed it.  The bank they were on was
several yards from the wreckage, but if there was a fire, it would be
fierce, despite the rain.  Aldo loomed beside her.

"I think we should try and move everyone along the bank.  You take the
woman and baby first, get to the corner if you can manage it, and then
come back here."

She did as he had asked her without speaking, and waded back in time to
see a small flame flickering somewhere in the tangle of cars.

Perhaps the water would put it out, she hoped, and, obedient to Aldo's
word, hauled the two women in turn back to where she had put the mother
and baby.

The doctor had carried the man with the broken leg and set him down
beside his wife with the dog and the cat.  He went back at once and
returned with the elderly man, still unconscious, then turned to go
again.  The little flame had spread; Louise took one look and splashed
after him.

"I can help one of the boys, if you can carry the other."

"Bless you for going, but I can't.  I'm travelling with a doctor; he's
there at the scene giving first aid--I'm a nurse, so I can give him
some help."

She was glad of the man's company along the lane, and at the main road
they parted without loss of time, he to make his way to Buntingford,
she back to the shambles by the cottage.

The doctor was bending over one of the young boys, examining his
head.

He looked up briefly.

"OK?"  and when she nodded, out of breath, "Good.

This boy is badly concussed; try and keep him still.  " He got to his
feet and started to make his way towards the house.

"Where are you going?"  Louise raised her voice in an urgent shout,
afraid to be left alone.

"Round the back of the house.  I'll be back."  He sounded so calm that
she felt ashamed of her anxious shout.  Once he had disappeared into
the darkness on the other side of the road she got down on her knees in
the water lapping the bank and did her best to hold down the boy.

She was a strong girl and well used to dealing with recalcitrant
patients, but he was a hefty youth and she had her work cut out, and
while she struggled with him, trying to keep him still, she worried
about the other figures lying or sitting around her; they all needed
attention, some more than others; she wished that Aldo would come
back.

When he did, a few moments later, he was carrying a shopping bag, and
by the car's headlights she could make out a cat inside; a greatly
frightened, bad-tempered cat, venting its fear on the night air, adding
to the groans and voices around her.  Beside him was a dog, splashing
along uttering short, enquiring barks.  The man from the cottage gave a
whistle and the dog scrambled to him, and the doctor handed the bag to
the man's wife.

The doctor paused for a moment, an enormous figure in the gloom, and
Louise knew why; there was a faint smell of burning, hot and rubbery;

she hoped that no one else had noticed it.  The bank they were on was
several yards from the wreckage, but if there was a fire, it would be
fierce, despite the rain.  Aldo loomed beside her.

"I think we should try and move everyone along the bank.  You take the
woman and baby first, get to the corner if you can manage it, and then
come back here."

She did as he had asked her without speaking, and waded back in time to
see a small flame flickering somewhere in the tangle of cars.

Perhaps the water would put it out, she hoped, and, obedient to Aide's
word, hauled the two women in turn back to where she had put the mother
and baby.

The doctor had carried the man with the broken leg and set him down
beside his wife with the dog and the cat.  He went back at once and
returned with the elderly man, still unconscious, then turned to go
again.  The little flame had spread; Louise took one look and splashed
after him.

"I can help one of the boys, if you can carry the other."

They were well clear when the little flame found the petrol tank of one
of the cars; all the same, Louise let out a yell of pure fright.

The doctor, arranging his burden tidily on the wet grass, said with
calm, "Now someone somewhere will see us."

She hadn't thought of that.  It's an ill wind.  she told herself,
trying to stop shaking, not sure if it was from fright or cold; a bit
of both, she supposed.

They had been seen; the man from the village had reached the police
house, sensibly borrowed a motorbike since the telephone was out of
order and made his way to Stevenage, while the constable got into his
car and battled his way towards the fire, now glowing brightly.  He was
a stolid man of good sense; he took over the care of the restless boy
and left Louise free to wrap the blankets he had brought with him round
the others.

Presently help arrived, the fire was put out, the ambulance loaded
their patients and drove away, and the police took names and
addresses.

The doctor urged Louise back into the car, then went away to talk to
one of the police and then to the man who had come to their help.  He
came back with him soon and ushered him into the back of the car.

"We will have to go to the hospital," he told Louise briefly, 'and on
the way I'll drop off Mr.  Coombes.  " He added quietly, " We cannot
thank you enough for your help, you may have saved several lives.  "

"Glad to help," said the man bashfully.

The doctor got out of his car at the cottage and went inside with him
after Louise had added her thanks.  She could see the doctor talking to
the man's wife, then they all shook hands and he got into the car
beside her again.

He started the engine and then put a hand on her knee.

"You're tired.

I'll be as quick as I can.  Will Zoe be worried?  "

"I don't think so--she knows what the weather is like and that it would
slow you down."

"When you get home, have a hot drink and a hot bath and go straight to
bed; stay there tomorrow if you don't feel good."

She said quickly, "I shall be quite all right after a night's sleep.

I'm only wet.  " She glanced at his dim shape.

"So are you."

They were driving back the way they had come to go to Stevenage.  She
would be able to telephone Zoe from the hospital; there was bound to be
a wait there while Aldo saw whoever was on duty in the casualty
department.

"The dog and cat," she said suddenly.

"The young woman from the house has a sister in Stevenage.  I told the
ambulance man to drive her there first and park her and the baby and
the animals.  The address is close to the hospital and it will only
take a few minutes."

"You think of everything," muttered Louise, 'and you always know just
what to do.  "

"Not always," said the doctor softly.

As he got out of the car at the hospital he said, "I'll telephone Zoe'.
He tucked the rug he had wrapped her in more tightly round her
shoulders.

"I'll not be long."

He wasn't, and very shortly afterwards he was helping her out of the
car in front of Ivy Cottage.

"Go in," he told her.

"I'll bring your bag."

Zoe was still up, wrapped in a dressing-gown, looking so pretty, with
huge sleepy eyes and her hair a mass of golden curls.  She flung her
arms around Louise.

"Darling, you're soaked.  I've got tea made and the bath's ready for
you, just as Aldo said."  She flung an arm round him then and kissed
him.

Louise's heart lurched painfully at the sight, but all she said was,
"You'll have some tea, Aldo?"

"No, thanks all the same.  I'll get home.  Zoe, give me a ring in the
morning if Louise doesn't feel like getting up."  He grinned tiredly.

"Thank you, Louise--not quite the ending I had hoped for, but the
best-laid plans, etc... Goodnight!"

He got back into the damp car and drove away, and Louise drank her tea,
then, escorted by Zoe, went upstairs, took off her wet clothes and lay
in a very hot bath while she recounted her adventures.

Zoe was a good listener; she hardly interrupted at all and at the end
exclaimed, "What a blessing Aldo was with you; he always knows what to

do, doesn't he?  Don't you think he's marvel 3

lous?  " She peered at Louise through the steam.

"Oh, yes, he's very dependable."  Louise made her voice casually
interested.

"You like him, don't you, Zoe?"

"I think he's super.  I've put a hot-water bottle in your bed, and
you'd better get out of the bath before the water gets cold."

There was a great deal to think about once she was in bed, and Zoe,
too, but Louise went to sleep immediately.

She awoke at her usual time, and beyond a bruise or two on her legs
where she had stumbled during her walk to the village she felt just as
usual.  She got up, called the others and started breakfast for them
all.  Christine and Mike both came down to the kitchen in their
nightclothes, annoyed that no one had seen fit to wake them up to join
in the excitement.

"Well, we weren't all that excited," observed Louise sensibly.

"Look, go and dress, my dears.  I'm going to have breakfast, otherwise
Aldo will go without me.  Zoe will be down in a minute."

She fed Dusty and went to telephone Aldo, feeling the now familiar
little thrill at the sound of his voice.

"You're sure you feel fit for a day's work?"  he wanted to know, and
then, "Very well, I will be outside in half an hour."

Beyond a few casual remarks about their previous evening he had little
to say.  He had a round at the hospital as well as several private
patients to see; it was going to be a busy day, thought

Louise, but didn't say so.  He looked tired, although he was as
immaculate as he always was.  He had probably been up for hours,
telephoning Stevenage, reading his mail and working at his desk; she
had too much sense to ask.

The day was as busy as she had expected it to be.  The last private
patient didn't go until almost five o'clock, and her heart sank when
Aldo came into the examination room where she was tidying up and told
her that he was going back to St.  Nicholas's, but she said, "Very
well, Doctor, I'll lock up as I go, shall I?  Will it be all right if I
let the porter have the keys, or shall I leave them at your house?"

"Neither.  You're almost ready, aren't you?  I'll wait for you and take
the keys.  I'm so sorry I can't take you home, but I will drop you off
at the nearest bus stop."

He stood leaning against the door watching her fold blankets and put
out fresh towels and cover her little trolley.  She did it all speedily
but with great neatness, and presently closed the last drawer and
cupboard.

"I'll get my things."

He glanced at his watch.

"You're tired--so am I--and there's not time to talk.  Perhaps
tomorrow.  I shall want you to come with me to Holland next week,
Louise."  And, when she stood stock still, gaping at him, "I must ask
you to be quick..."

She got her outdoor things and without a word went out to the car with
him and got into it.  The bus which would start her on her way home
stopped a couple of streets away; he pulled up to the kerb and she
opened her door, ready to get out quickly.  His kiss was just a little
quicker and he said something softly, in his own language, she
presumed, for she didn't understand a word.  She jumped out without a
backward glance and joined the bus queue, and when she did turn her
head the car was no longer there.


CHAPTER EIGHT

if after a wakeful night Louise had hoped to have an explanation from
Aldo, she was doomed to disappointment.  Beyond a cheerful good morning
and the lowering observation that they had a busy day ahead of them, he
had nothing much to say, and when they reached his rooms he just
dropped her off with a quick nod and drove himself off to St.
Nicholas's.  He didn't come back before his first patient was due to
arrive and Louise, with everything ready and waiting and nothing much
to do but answer Miss Squires's eager questions about the road
accident, was glad to see him; now she could plunge into the day's
routine and bury her troublesome thoughts.

Only they would not be buried.  How could they be with him sitting
behind his desk, calm and remote, listening to his patients'
complaints, examining them, reassuring them, telling them what he
intended to do for them, holding out a hand for forms or whatever,
barely glancing at her when he asked her to undress the patient, fetch
notes, or take a temperature?

Outwardly her usual serene self, she pondered his announcement-not even
a request-that she was to go to Holland with him.  It was, to say the
least of it, infuriating not to know why and where.  While she divested
an elderly lady of her outer garments, she made a mental note to refuse
to go.  The patient was difficult, worried that her hair would be
disarranged and unwilling to remove the several gold chains around her
neck.

Louise made soothing noises, assured that lady that not a hair was out
of place and settled her on the couch ready for Aldo to examine.  The
patient was ill, but obstinately refusing to believe it;

Louise listened to Aldo gently charming her into accepting the fact and
agreeing to go into hospital for treatment.  He did it very well, she
considered;

his bedside manner was faultless; moreover, it was genuine.

The next patient was a bluff, elderly man whose symptoms had to be
wormed from him gradually.  He disliked discussing illness, and
informed the doctor that if it hadn't been for his wife persuading him
he would never have come in the first place.  The doctor listened with
a patient ear, sitting back in his chair as though he had all day empty
in front of him, instead of a string of patients waiting their turn.

The last one for the morning went just before one o'clock, and Miss
Squires prepared to go to her lunch.

"You have got your sandwiches, dear?"  she wanted to know.

"We shall be busy again this afternoon, so do take it easy for an hour.
There's plenty of tea in the cupboard if you don't want coffee."  She
took herself off and Louise went back to tidy the examination room
ready for the afternoon.  The doctor was still in his consulting room
with the door shut, but he would go out presently to wherever he went
at lunch time.  She finished what she was doing and went to the tiny
kitchenette to put on the kettle.

"No, you won't need that," said Aldo from the doorway.

"I'm going across to the pub; I'd like you to come with me.  I can
explain about the trip to Holland while we eat."

She still had her hand on the kettle.

"I would rather not go to Holland, if you don't mind."

"I do mind.  You have a reason?"

"Well..."  She couldn't go on.  To invent a reason on the spur of the
moment was beyond her; besides, she was a poor liar.

"Well, Louise?"  And, when she still said nothing.

"I hate to remind you, but you are in my employ."

Slow colour flooded her face; she stood still, still holding the
kettle, staring at him.  He stared back, his face expressionless.

"Unless your reason is one of life and death, my dear, you will come
with me."  There was no hint of annoyance in his level voice.

He was quite right, of course.  She got her outdoor things and
accompanied him down the street, to turn down a narrow lane lined with
small shops.  The pub was on the corner and when they went in it was
obvious that he was known there, for the bartender looked up with a
cheerful, "Morning, sir--the usual?"

"Morning, Tom.  Yes, please, and perhaps the lady might have the
menu?"

She was ushered to a small table in the end booth, and Aldo sat down
opposite her.

"Coffee?"  he said quietly while she studied the card.

"Yes, and sandwiches please.  Brown bread, prawns and salad."

Tom went away and Aldo said easily, "I come here frequently.  If I stay
at St.  Nicholas's we only talk shop.  It's nice to get away."

The coffee came and then the sandwiches and the doctor's beer.  The pub
was almost full, but there was no one in the next booth.  Louise poured
her coffee from a generous pot on the table and waited for Aldo to
speak.

"We go to Utrecht next Tuesday and we shall be there for four, perhaps
five days.  I've asked Miss Squires to fit in as many patients before
then as can be managed--I'm afraid you may be working late for the rest
of the week.  My registrar will take over at the hospitals until we are
back."

Louise bit into a sandwich.

"Where... That is, is it a hospital you're going to?"  She took another
bite.

"In Utrecht?"

"I've some examining to do there, but I have also been asked to give a
second opinion on two patients of a colleague of mine--an old
friend."

"Do I stay at the hospital?"

"No.  This colleague, Litrik van Rijgen, lives with his wife near
Ziest--that is a town close to Utrecht; it is two of his patients whom
I am to examine.  You shall stay with them.  His wife is
English--Francesca--a nurse before she married.  They have a baby
son."

Louise poured a second cup of coffee and watched the last of the
sandwiches being eaten.  There was no use in making a fuss, Aldo had
made up his mind that she was to go with him to Holland, and nothing
she could say would make any difference; indeed, he might be wondering
why she was so reluctant; after all, it would make a nice change any
girl would jump at.  Not that she wasn't only too willing to jump at
it, but prudence reminded her that seeing too much of him was asking
for trouble.  On the other hand, she reflected, it might be an
opportunity to find out just how interested he was in Zoe and encourage
him.  She said serenely, "Very well, I'm quite ready when you are.
Doctor."

"Aldo."  He got up and went to the bar and paid, and they walked the
short distance to the post office in the busy main road at the end of
the lane.  Having collected the passport forms, they walked back to his
rooms.  They got there with five minutes to spare, to find Miss Squires
agitated at their absence.

"I've phoned the patients you wanted to transfer to this week, Doctor,"
she started as soon as they were indoors.

"Only two of them are unable to change their appointments.

Lady Henny and Mr.  Evans.  They agreed to come the following week,
same day, same time.  "

The doctor paused on his way to his consulting room.

"Splendid, Miss Squires.  I knew I could depend on you.  While we are
away there is no need for you to come in every day.  Switch on the
answering machine and--let me see, we go on Tuesday and probably return
on Saturday evening-could you pop in on Thursday and deal with anything
urgent?

I will leave my telephone number.  "

He shut the door behind him and Louise tore out of her coat and scarf,
perched her cap just so on her head and joined Miss Squires until such
time as the first patient arrived.

The rest of the week went by quickly; Aldo seemed indefatigable and
apparently expected Miss Squires and Louise to be the same, but since
he put Miss Squires into a taxi on the two evenings when they were
delayed until almost seven o'clock, and drove Louise to and from his
rooms each day, to complain would have been silly; besides, he wouldn't
have listened anyway.

Louise had told Zoe about the trip to Holland with some trepidation,
adding, "You don't mind me going, Zoe?  I am working for Aldo and he's
in the habit of taking a nurse with him when he goes to see those
patients of his."  She looked at her sister doubtfully.

"You're sure you'll be able to manage?  Miss Wills might come again,
just once more.

I should think Aldo's nurse will be back soon, and I will get a job
where I can be home normally.  "

She could detect no disquiet in Zoe's manner,

and when she told Mike and Christine they were enchanted.

"Oh, good--will you bring back something really Dutch?  They're
supposed to make gorgeous chocolates.  Will you get a chance to
explore?"

Louise explained about the friend who was going to put her up.

"And Aldo, where will he go?"

"I've no idea."  For once Louise sounded slightly peevish, and her
sisters and brother exchanged glances.

It was the next morning, while Louise was getting coffee for the three
of them, that Miss Squires, going into the consulting room with some
notes, left the door open and Louise overheard Aldo telephoning.

"I think we had better wait until we are back again before we say
anything, Zoe.  You haven't talked about it at all?"  There was a short
pause, then, "You need not feel guilty, my dear..."  Miss Squires, with
more notes, went in again and this time shut the door.

Louise stood watching the kettle boil its head off and did nothing
about it.  She admonished herself; hadn't she known all this time that
Aldo and Zoe.  But now her vague guesses and surmises had been made
concrete, and there was no loophole for hope to creep in.

The trip to Holland suddenly became a nightmare, instead of the
exciting few days she had been looking forward to, at least in part.

Not that she had expected Aldo to be anything but his rather remote
self, friendly and kind and thoughtful and quite impersonal, but just
being with him would have made her happy.

She turned off the gas at last and made the coffee, just as Miss
Squires came bustling along to see what had kept her so long.

"There's that Mrs.  Pettigrew due in ten minutes, and you know how the
doctor hates to drink his coffee in a hurry," she said reproachfully.

"I'll take it in as I go."

Normally no patients came on a Saturday morning, but since the doctor
was to be away, three of them had elected to come for a consultation
then.

"None of them will take long," Aldo told Louise as they drove to London
on Saturday, 'but they are patients I like to see frequently all heart
cases.  I shall go straight to St.  Nicholas's afterwards, and I'm
afraid I'm not sure how long I shall be.  Can you get yourself back
home?  "

"Easily.  Is Miss Squires coming in as well?"

"Yes.  Louise, when you get back to Ivy Cottage, will you ask Zoe to
come over this evening?  I've a book for her."

Louise was looking out of the window, and her voice was quite steady as
she told him that of course she would tell her.

Zoe looked mischievous when Louise passed the message on, and directly
after supper she left the house with the remark that she wouldn't be
long.  The two younger ones were in bed and Louise was setting the
table ready for breakfast before she returned.  True, she had a book
under her arm, but she looked very pleased with herself.  Louise
debated with herself as to whether it would be a good idea to tell her
sister that she knew all about it and there was no need to be so
secretive about it.  On the other hand, Zoe must have some very good
reason for not saying anything.

She thought that she knew the reason by the time they went up to bed,
for over a cup of tea Zoe had asked, "Do you ever feel that you are
missing something, Louise?  I mean, you have had years of looking after
us and making ends meet and never going out or having boyfriends.

We've been selfish, I dare say, letting you cope with everything--me,
especially--And supposing I was to get married and leave you to look
after Mike and Christine when it ought to be the other way round--you
getting married and me taking over the household?  "

Louise poured more tea with a steady hand and in a voice just as steady
said, "Zoe, darling, I'm happy and content as I am, and I would be so
very pleased if you married someone who would take care of you and love
you.  And I don't have to cope any more, do I?  Not now we have Ivy
Cottage."

"When Aldo's nurse comes back again you'll be without a job once
more."

"Oh, pooh to that.  There are plenty of jobs around; they seem to drop
into my lap."

"Don't you want to get married?"  persisted Zoe.

Louise said lightly, The?  Darling, perhaps one day, when I have time.
"

She had even managed an amused laugh.

Thankfully she was busy on Sunday: church in the morning and a small
case to pack after lunch, watched minutely by her sisters telling her
what to take with her.  Finally she said, half laughing, "Look, dears,
I'm only going for four or five days and it's not a holiday, you know,
I'm going to work..."

"Not all the time, you can't, only if Aldo is working too," observed
Christine.

"And if you're staying with these friends of his you can't sit down to
dinner in your overall.  Wear the blue you wore to Scotland, pack your
green dress, and take the grey crepe just in case."

"But I shall never wear it."

"You can squash it up in a corner, and it'll be there if you want
it."

Miss Wills had to be visited, and displayed no reluctance to return at
such short notice and certainly no surprise, a fact which escaped
Louise's notice, since her head was full of the various instructions
she wanted to give to Zoe.  Of Aldo there was no sign, although she
hadn't really expected to see him; it was Zoe who told her while they
sat at tea that he had gone to spend the day with old
friends--somewhere in Essex, she thought, adding that it was a pity
because there was something she wanted to see him about.  She glanced
at Louise as she said it, but Louise had taught herself to be on her
guard against such remarks; she observed sensibly that Zoe would be
able to see him on Monday.

"For we don't go until Tuesday afternoon; Aldo has a round at St.
Nicholas's in the morning and some private patients he particularly
wants to see before he goes."

The doctor occupied the drive to his rooms on Monday morning with
details of the two patients he was to see in Holland.  Louise listened
carefully, for the simple reason that he expected her to, and to
remember what he had said, too.  He was away all the morning, and in
the afternoon she was kept more than busy, for the patients who had
appointments, ill though they were, were pernickety.  She bore with
them, for that was part of her job, and as for Aldo, he exhibited the
patience of Job and unfailing good humour.  He was silent on their
journey back to Much Hadham, and she made no attempt to talk.

Something was on his mind; she could see that with eyes sharpened by
love.  Possibly it was one of his patients.

She got into the blue outfit the next morning and felt a rising
excitement at the prospect of going to Holland, but she damped it down
with the reflection that she would most likely see little of Aldo
outside her nursing duties; she must contrive to keep out of his way.
She was seen off in a flurry of hugs and kisses and requests to bring
back something Dutch, never mind what, just as long as it was the real
thing.  Louise, conscious of Aldo sitting patiently waiting for her,
hugged them all once more, gave Dusty a final pat and got into the
car.

"I wonder," observed the doctor pensively, 'if any man will be able to
prise you from your family?  "

She bit back the words 'you could' just in time, and answered in a
matter-of-fact voice, "Well, the question doesn't arise, does it?"

He didn't answer but presently said, "I've got seats on an early
afternoon flight from Heathrow;

we shall have to leave just after one o'clock, so get some lunch before
that if you can.  "

"Oh, yes, well...1 thought we were going by ferry?"

"I changed my mind.  I'll leave the car at the airport; there will be a
car for us at Schiphol."

As it turned out there was no time for lunch;

the patient who was to have arrived at eleven o'clock telephoned to say
that he would not be coming until midday, and since he had several good
reasons for this there was nothing to be done about it.  Louise, having
put everything in apple pie order, had coffee with Miss Squires and
when the doctor returned from the hospital, gave him a cup, too, and
left him to work in his consulting room until the patient arrived.

He was a well-known man in public life and, besides being ill,
possessed a bad temper and a stubborn wish to have everything done to
his way of thinking.  It took the doctor's calm bedside manner and
Louise's gentle wheedling to get him to see things their way, and when
finally he had gone there was barely time to get into the car and drive
to Heathrow.

The flight was too short for Louise, taken as it was in the comfort of
first class with coffee and sandwiches, and Aldo beside her--immersed
in papers it was true, but still, there.

Beyond making sure that she had all that she wanted and was
comfortable, he had little to say, and at Schiphol he went briskly
through Customs and out to the reception hall with a porter carrying
their bags, to be met by a short, stout man dressed very neatly in dark
blue, with a round, jovial face and a fringe of hair round a bald
head.

"Pieter," said the doctor briefly to Louise, and said something to the
man in Dutch.  Pieter gave her a little bow and shook hands, and led
the way out of the hall, across the narrow street to where cars were
parked.

He stopped by a dark grey Rolls-Royce and opened the door, and Aldo
said, "Get in, Louise.  We have half an hour's drive to Utrecht."

He ushered her into the back, to get behind the wheel himself while
Pieter got in the front beside him.  Louise sat contemplating Aldo's
vast back, trying to decide whether the car had been hired or whether
it belonged to this friend of his;

it wouldn't be Aldo's, he had his own car in England.  She gave up
speculating presently and turned her attention to the scenery:

motorway with everything going very fast and flat country on either
side, but soon they were on another motorway to Utrecht and she could
see lakes on either side of the road and then the outskirts of the
city.  Aldo kept straight on, skirting it before turning east towards
Zeist.  He slowed his speed now and turned into a country road, leaving
Zeist behind them, too, going through pleasantly wooded country.  They
soon reached a small village, with tiny cottages seemingly dwarfed by a
very large church which he passed before turning into an open gateway
between pillars.  In a moment he stopped before a flight of
semicircular steps leading to the front door of a solid, flat-faced
house of some size.

"Is this it?"  asked Louise.

"Yes."  Aldo got out and opened her door, and Pieter went to the boot
and got the bags out as the door opened to allow a tall man with fair
hair sprinkled with grey and a smallish woman with mousy hair and a
plain face full of charm to hurry down the steps.

The doctor gave her a hug and kiss, shook hands with the man and turned
to Louise.

"Fran, Litrik, this is Louise.  Louise, they are among my oldest
friends..."

They welcomed her with a warmth which dispelled the slight feelings of
apprehension which had been creeping over her, and Francesca took her
arm and led the way indoors.

"Come up to your room," she invited, 'then we'll have tea.  You must be
dying for a cup.  "

She ushered Louise through the hall and up the rather grand staircase,
saying, "You're in the bedroom I had when I first came here..."  She
broke off to exclaim, "Hark at Thor and Muff!  -they dote on
Aldo--dogs, you know..."

She crossed a wide gallery and opened a door.

"I hope you'll be comfy, Louise.  I was so awfully glad when Aldo said
he would be bringing you.

I'll leave you for five minutes, shall I?  " She went to the door.

"You're just as pretty as he said you were."  She nodded her neat head,
smiling, and went away.

The room was large and beautiful and there was a bathroom beyond as
well as a balcony.  Louise did her face and her hair and was ready when
Francesca tapped on the door.

"Would you like to see our baby?"  she wanted to know, and led the way
along a short corridor to a room at the back of the house.  It was
light and airy, and there was a plump young woman with a kind face
sitting by the window, and close by a very small baby in a cot.

"Benedict Litrik," said his mother proudly, 'and this is Nanny, one of
the pillars of the household.  "

Nanny smiled widely and shook hands, and Louise went to bend over the
cot.  The son of the house was asleep; he looked, she thought, like his
father in miniature.

"He's gorgeous," she said, and she meant it.

"How old is he?"

"Two months.  I bath him each evening while Nanny has her supper and
half an hour's peace- if you like, you can come, too?"

"Oh, I'd love to."

The two of them went down to join the men in the drawing-room, and
found them sitting in two great armchairs with the dogs between them:

a mastiff and a small dog with a long, curly coat and obscure
parentage.

The men got up as they went in, and Louise found herself beside her
host, quite put at her ease by his gentle flow of small talk.  Aldo had
hardly spoken to her, but presently Francesca said, "Why don't you take
Louise round the garden, Aldo?  It's too early to bath Benedict and
once you two get together there'll be no pr ising you apart."

The garden was large and rambling, and as they crossed the lawn Louise
remarked upon its beauty, her voice rather high and wooden because she
was feeling shy and not quite certain if Aldo had wanted to join her.

His manners were far too good for him to refuse his hostess's
suggestion, but Louise wasn't sure if he had been all that keen.

They wandered around while she kept up a conversation of sorts until
she said with a touch of peevishness, "Well, shall we go back?  I
expect you are wishing to talk to your friend..."

For answer he took her arm and turned her round to face him.

"No, I have no desire to go indoors; walking here with you and
listening to you talking is very restful, and if I don't talk it is
because my thoughts are so pleasant that I would not wish to disturb
them."

She stood, his hands on her shoulders, looking up into his quiet
face.

She could think of nothing to say, but her heart was in her eyes, while
thoughts raced and tumbled around inside her head, but at last it
cleared sufficiently for her to say in a small voice, "Zoe would love
it here."

"So she would."  He spoke lightly, but he sighed, too, and took his
hands from her shoulders and began to stroll on once more.

"I must tell you about tomorrow.  Litrik will meet us at his patient's
house in Utrecht at half-past ten.  She is an elderly lady, very
nervous.  She speaks and understands English, and I know you will do
your best to keep her calm.  You have already seen her case history, so
you know more or less what to expect.  She is autocratic and can
sometimes be rude.  I dare say we shall be there for a couple of hours.
I shall go to Utrecht to the hospital with Litrik, but one of us will
drive you back here first.  The second patient has an appointment for
Thursday afternoon; we'll talk about her later."

They were retracing their steps now and a few minutes later Louise went
off with Francesca to the nursery and, as for the rest of the evening,
delightful though it was, she exchanged barely a dozen words with
him.

She did not sleep very well, despite the comfort of her bed, and went
down to breakfast with a pale face and shadows under her eyes.

Francesca eyed her appreciatively.

"Heavens, but you are pretty," she declared.

"I simply can't think why you haven't been snapped up long ago.  I like
the cap, don't you, Litrik?"

Her husband studied it carefully.

"Very much, very becoming.  You looked quite enchanting in yours,
darling."

His wife beamed at him across the table.

"You do say the nicest things.  Aldo, when you marry, remember to
compliment your wife at the breakfast table, it starts the day off very
nicely!"

Aldo passed his cup for more coffee.

"I'll bear it in mind, Fran."  He was smiling and she said at once,
"Oh, are you going to marry at last?"

"Oh, yes."

Francesca opened her mouth to speak, then shut it again at her
husband's look.

"I'm glad.  Louise, have another of these rolls.  Will you have time to
say hello to Benedict before you go?"

"Ten o'clock at the door," said Aldo.

It was actually five minutes to the hour when Louise crossed the hall
to find Aldo waiting, talking to Tuggs, the van Rijgens' manservant.

Tuggs opened the door and Louise passed through and paused on the steps
to wave to Francesca, who was hanging out of the nursery window.

The Rolls-Royce was there again, and as she got in she remarked,
"Litrik doesn't mind you driving his car?  Didn't he go off in a
Daimler this morning?  Two such super cars..."

"Er, yes... This one happens to be mine."

She turned to stare at him.

"Yours?  But you've got a car in England."

He sounded almost apologetic.

"Well, yes.

This one is kept at my home--my parents' home-and when I come over here
Pieter drives it down for me.  "

She digested this in silence, while questions bubbled on her tongue.

She heard his gentle laugh.

"So many questions and no time to answer them all--not just yet,
anyhow."

They were on the outskirts of Utrecht.

"A pity there is so little time to show you the city.  There's the Dom
Tower ahead--four hundred and sixty-five steps to the top--there's a
little chapel half-way up where one can rest."  He began to point out
the various buildings and churches as they drove into the heart of the
city, turned off the main road and finally stopped in a quiet street of
old houses.  There was a canal running down its centre, lined with
trees.  Louise would have liked to have had the time to gaze but the
Daimler was already parked at the edge of the canal and Aldo turned the
Rolls into the space beside it.

They crossed the street together and he tugged the old-fashioned
bell-pull by the green-painted door with its ornate fanlight.  They
were admitted at once by a severe-looking man who greeted them
solemnly, led them to a small room at one side of the narrow hall,
spoke deferentially to Aldo and left them there.

"By the way," said Aldo, 'our patient is a baroness, but it is quite
correct if you address her as mevrouw.  Here is Litrik.  "

The pair of them, being large men, made the room seem very small.
Litrik had nodded to her as he'd joined them, but now there was a
subtle difference; he and Aldo had slipped into their special medical
world and she had become the nurse attending them to carry out their
wishes.  She sat composedly while they talked, remembering to apologise
briefly for not speaking their own language.

After ten minutes or so Litrik asked, "Right, shall we go?"  and he
opened the door.

Aldo had warned her that his patient might be rude, by no means an
understatement, thought Louise, coping with an elderly lady who needed
to be coaxed, cajoled and persuaded to do any of the things required of
her.  But, if the two doctors were impatient or irritated by the
constant delays during the examination, they gave no sign.  They were
rather alike, she reflected, with their calm faces and bland manner
which nevertheless got them their own way eventually.

Louise was left presently to assist the lady to dress again and listen
to her grumbles while the two men went away to consult with each other.
They were a long time, or so it seemed to her, sitting quietly opposite
the old martinet, answering in her calm voice the questions which were
fired at her.

Finally she was told that the doctors were ready to leave, and she went
downstairs to wait in the hall while they had a last word with their
patient, and then she went with them into the bright day outside.

Told to do so, she got into the car beside Aldo and sat quietly as he
drove through the city's streets, back towards Ziest and beyond.

"You did very well," he told her.

"The baroness is quite a difficult patient.  She is also a very ill
woman, as you could see, of course, for yourself.  There is nothing
much to be done, I'm afraid.  But you can see now why I like to have my
nurse with me."

She murmured a reply, wondering what she was supposed to do with the
rest of her day and, as if he had read her thoughts, he said, "Fran
wants to show you the house; Litrik and I will be back this evening
around tea time, then you and I are going out to dinner."

She said faintly, "Oh, are we?"  and then quickly, "Please don't feel
that I need entertaining..."

"I don't."  She thought that he was amused.

"In any case, I can't remember making any effort to entertain you,
Louise."

A remark which incensed her so much that she said with a snap, "When is
Mrs.  Pratt coming back?"

"Like you, I can hardly wait for her to return," he told her, which
left her choking with temper.  It took her the rest of the drive to
calm down sufficiently to say, "It is very kind of you to ask me to go
out this evening, but I don't think I want to."

He drew up outside the van Rijgens' house and got out to open her
door.

"We shall leave here about six o'clock," he told her equably, and got
in again and drove away without looking round.

"Well," breathed Louise, serenity gone to the four winds, "I never
did..."

She simply had to swallow her feelings then, for Francesca came round
the side of the house with the pram.

"I heard you coming," she said happily.

"Do you feel like a stroll towards the village?  I'm dying to hear
about your morning."

It was difficult to be unhappy in Francesca's company, she was so
obviously happy herself.  Besides, she asked no questions but chatted
about her life in Holland and her own hospital days in England.  Louise
had quite recovered her normally sensible mind by the time the two men
returned, so that she was able to greet Aldo with her usual serenity.

After tea she changed into the grey crepe: plain, elegant and dateless;
she was heartily sick of it.

In the car driving back towards Utrecht, Aldo observed, "We are going a
few miles the other side of the city to a well-known beauty spot.  I
hope you will enjoy it."

"It is nice to have a chance to see something of Holland."  It was a
silly remark to make, but somehow the easy formal friendship they'd had
had sunk without trace and there was a restraint--that wasn't the right
word, she pondered silently; perhaps tension described it
better--between them.

She sat silent as they circled round Utrecht and turned away from the
motorway to a narrow country road which after a mile or so became well
wooded.  Presently she could see a river to the right of the road.

There were villages at first and then, at intervals, lovely country
houses, each set in its own grounds leading down to the river.

"Oh, this is beautiful," said Louise, 'and so.  Well, it's like
stepping back into a long time ago.  "

"Well, in a way it is.  These houses were built by rich merchants in
the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries; most of them are still
privately owned."  They passed an ancient castle as he spoke.

"That is Slot Zylen, still lived in by the family; some very nice
Gobelin tapestries are inside."

"Oh, is it open to the public?"

"Er--yes, I believe so."  He turned the car under a gated arch as he
spoke, and along a curving drive with trees and shrubs on either
side.

It ended in a wide sweep with a large ornamental pond on one side of it
and the house on the other.  It was a large house, but charming, with a
wing jutting out on either side of the main part, forming a three-sided
courtyard.  The windows were big and latticed, and the roof was really
three high gables, each with small dormer windows, exactly spaced.
There was a clock high above the door, and it chimed seven o'clock as
Louise got out of the car, to stand very quiet, looking up at Aldo with
a small frown.

He smiled down at her.

"My home," he told her.

"Come in and meet my mother and father."

He took her arm and urged her towards the door, and as they reached it
it was opened by a thin old man with a slight stoop whose face broke
into a wide smile as Aldo shook his hand.

"This is Teen," he told Louise.

"He has been with us since before I was born."

She shook the old man's hand and returned his smile, and went through
the inner door into the hall: wide and square with panelled walls and a
vast chandelier.  To her slightly fevered fancy there seemed to be
massive arched doors whichever way she looked; it was like being
plunged into a dream.  She allowed her coat to be taken before Aldo put
a hand on her arm and led her to one of the doors.

The room beyond was large and lofty and furnished with massive wall
cabinets, roomy armchairs and a number of small tables bearing lamps
and framed portraits.  At one of these tables two people sat playing
cards, but they got up as Aldo opened the door and came to meet them.

They were both tall, his mother still pretty with bright blue eyes and
fair hair which hardly showed the grey.  She was a big woman and
elegant, but she was smiling now and cried, "Aldo, there you are."  She
put up her face to be kissed.

"My dear, how lovely to see you."  She turned to Louise.

"And this is Louise'.  She took Louise's hand in hers and beamed at
her.

"We are so happy to meet you, my dear."

Aldo had been talking to his father, and Louise thought how alike they
were as she shook hands with him and then was borne away to sit on one
of the vast sofas beside her hostess where, with a glass of sherry in
her hand, she listened to that lady's pleasant chat and tried not to
look at Aldo, sitting across the room from her, very much at his
ease.

But then, why shouldn't he be?  He was in his own home.

They dined presently, in a splendid room at a table bright with silver
and crystal, and Louise, still bemused, ate quenelles of sole, saddle
of lamb and a bavarois of raspberries without tasting any of them,
replying rather shyly to her host's gentle talk and feeling just as shy
when Aldo addressed her, for this was an Aldo she didn't know at all.

They sat around over coffee for an hour or so and Louise, allowing
herself to drift along in what still seemed a dream, began to enjoy
herself.  Presently, when they got up to go, she bade her host and
hostess goodbye with real regret.  They were dears and, as for Aldo, it
was like seeing another side of him.

All the same, common sense reasserted itself once they were driving
back.

"Why did you invite me to your home?"  she asked.

"Now that," said Aldo, 'is a question I hesitate to answer for the
moment.  "

"Why?"

"I'll tell you that, too, all in good time."

She had to be content with that.


CHAPTER NINE

the patient to be visited on the following day lived on the outskirts
of Utrecht, and the consultation had been arranged for two o'clock in
the afternoon.  Only Francesca was at the table when Lousie went down
to breakfast.

"They were away early," she explained, "Litrik has a morning round and
Aldo went over to Leiden; he's an examiner at the medical school
there."

Louise accepted the coffee and thought that every day revealed
something else about Aldo.

"But he works in England," she said.

"Oh, I know, but he's by way of being international, if you see what I
mean, in his particular field.  Litrik examines too and has to travel
around from time to time."

"Don't you miss him?"

Francesca laughed.

"No, you see I go, so do Nanny and Benedict."

Louise squashed a feeling of envy.

"Did Aldo leave a message for me?

Am I supposed to do anything this morning?  "

"Oh, no.  Only potter around and have an early lunch.  Aldo will pick
you up just after one o'clock; his patient is on the other side of
Utrecht and he will have to drive right through the city and it's
market day.  It's a pity you aren't here longer; you must come again
with some time to explore."

Louise agreed that would be nice, but thought it would be unlikely.

She looked wistful without knowing it, and Francesca asked, "Haven't
you got a boyfriend, Louise?  You are so very pretty and so nice..."

Louise went pink.

"No, I haven't.  I haven't had much time--to meet people; at hospital
all night and my sisters and brother--they are all younger than I
am--quite a bit younger."

"So you feel you must look after them until they are grown up?  Before
I married Litrik I lived with three aunts, and I honestly thought I'd
live with them for ever because they seemed to depend on me for
everything.  Only Litrik came along and just-just married me and found
them a housekeeper.  They're perfectly happy and just think if he
hadn't come along when he did I might still be there!"

"But even if..."  began Louise, and started again.

"No one wants to marry me."

"That's exactly what I thought," declared Francesca with a wise shake
of her mousy head, 'but here I am married to the most marvelous man.

Aldo's almost as nice, though, don't you think so?  "

"I don't know him very well," said Louise sedately.

He arrived back a little early, and Francesca,

going into the hall to meet him, asked, "Have you had some lunch?"

He shook his head.

"No time, the exams ran late."

Tuggs had come into the hall, too, and Francesca said, "Tuggs, please
get some sandwiches and coffee for the doctor--he has got about ten
minutes before he has to go off again."

"No wonder Litrik dotes on you," observed Aldo as they walked to the
sitting-room.  Louise was waiting there and he smiled across at her.

"Ready?"  And, when she nodded, "I won't be a minute; if we are a few
minutes late, Litrik will keep our patient happy--he has a nice bedside
manner."

Weaving a slow way through the crowded centre of the city, Aldo said,
"We'll come into Utrecht on Saturday--I dare say you want to buy
something for your family, and I must find something for Potts and Mrs.
Potts."

"I can buy chocolates in the village," objected Louise, anxious not to
sound eager.

"So you can, but my dear girl, where is your tact?  Fran and Litrik
cherish their weekends together, we can at least make ourselves scarce
for part of the day."

"Oh, I hadn't thought of that.  Perhaps if you would give me a lift.. I
would like to explore a bit as well as look at the shops.  I could meet
you whenever you are ready to go back."

"If I didn't know you better than you know yourself, Louise, I might
suspect that I was being given the brush-off."  And, at her indignant
gasp, "No, don't worry, you're only anxious to avoid me.  Why?"

"Not avoid you," said Louise calmly, 'only we don't --that is, we don't
seem to get on together.  I mean--oh, I don't know what I mean, but I
daresay you do.  "

"Of course I do.  The trouble is there is never time to talk about
it.

Here we are.  "

They were in a wide avenue lined with massive houses, built, she
judged, around the end of the nineteenth century.  She smiled
involuntarily when Aldo said, "Hideous, aren't they?  Let's go in."

The patient he had been called in to see was, if possible, even more
difficult than the old lady had been, but finally Louise got her coat
and left the house with the two doctors.  As they crossed the pavement
to the cars, Aldo said casually, "Litrik will take you back, Louise,
I've a couple of calls to make.  Thanks for your assistance."

She got in beside Litrik and the Rolls-Royce flashed past them.  Dying
of curiosity, Louise said, "I didn't know that Aldo had patients here
as well as in England."

"He hasn't," said Litrik easily.

"He comes over here to lecture and examine and give second opinions;
he's going to visit old friends."

Louise spent the rest of the journey imagining the old friends--amongst
them probably some elegant creature ready to fall into his lap when he
whistled.  She chided herself with the thought;

Aldo was in love with Zoe, and because she loved him herself she knew
quite well that if he loved a girl, he wouldn't be interested in any
other woman.  He was going to make a perfect- well, almost
perfect--husband.  She sighed so deeply that Litrik asked kindly,
"Tired?  It was a tiresome afternoon, wasn't it?"

Aldo rang up in the early evening; Louise, on her way downstairs heard
Francesca talking to him on the phone.

"Of course we don't mind;

we'll take care.  of Louise for you and don't hurry back, Litrik has
some work to do after dinner, so he'll be up until all hours.  "

Louise went back upstairs and then came down again as Francesca crossed
the hall.

"Aldo has just telephoned-he's out to dinner, so there will just be the
three of us--you don't mind?"

"Mind?  Of course not."  Louise spoke with her usual calm.

"Litrik told me that he had a lot of friends here--well, of course he
would, it's his home town, isn't it?  He must miss them."

They had walked into the drawing-room, where Litrik was pouring their
drinks.

"Mostly those he grew up with," observed Litrik.

"He loves his home at Much Hadham and I must say it is a lovely
place."

They settled down to a gentle chat about rural England and the
different types of architecture there and in Holland, which took them
through dinner.  When they had gone back to the drawing- room, they
went and strolled in the garden with the dogs until Louise, mindful of
Aide's remark about the van Rij gens' weekends, declared that she was
tired and went to bed.

"I thought she might have wanted to stay up until Aldo came back," said
Francesca thoughtfully.

Her husband tucked her hand under his arm as they wandered round the
garden.

"Darling, that is just what she didn't want to do.  The dear girl is
leaning over backwards to give him the impression that she has no
interest in him whatsoever."

"But she has--anyone can see she has.  Aldo's not blind..."

He turned her round and held her close.

"My darling, don't worry, there will be a happy ending."  He kissed her
and she said softly, "Like us."

"Like us."

Louise, in her room, making no attempt to get ready for bed, tried to
make sense of her muddled thoughts.  When she had heard that Aldo had
gone out for the evening, she had instantly jumped to the conclusion
that he would be with a girl and that he ought to be with Zoe, mentally
at least, but in all honesty she had to admit that it was on her own
behalf that she was so put out.  The quicker they were back at Much
Hadham, the better.  She sat for a long time, not even thinking any
more until the sound of a car coming up the drive proclaimed the fact
that Aldo was back.  She went to bed then; her indignation had gone by
this time, washed away by a burst of weeping.

She was being silly, she told herself firmly.  Aldo had every right to
go where he liked and with whom he fancied.  He might be in love with
Zoe but he hadn't actually said so.

The rest of their stay in Holland passed off quietly enough.  She
busied herself with Fran and the baby the next day, and on Saturday she
was driven to Utrecht and accompanied by Aldo, good-naturedly intent on
showing her round the city and taking her to the most suitable shops
for her purchases.  He took her to lunch, too, at the Cafe de Paris,
which she guessed--quite rightly--to be both fashionable and expensive.
He ordered green herring on toast for her to try, and she eyed the raw,
salted fish with some doubt, but had to admit once she had eaten it
that it was quite nice.  The menu was French and she chose Chicken a la
King with tiny new potatoes and mange touts, and finished off her lunch
with an ice and whipped cream dish which she declared to be
delicious.

She finished her shopping after lunch, chocolates for Christine and
Mike, a silver bangle for Zoe and more chocolates for Miss Wills and
Miss Squires, and when they went to sit in the cloisters between the
university and the Cathedral and listen to the carillon.  Fifty bells,
Aldo told her quietly.  As they sat there, he held her hand in his, and
just for a moment her doubts and worries evaporated.  To sit there for
ever, with her hand in his, listening to the lovely sounds, was
complete contentment.

He broke into her reverie gently.

"If you have finished your shopping we might drive along the Vecht
across the Loosdrechtsche Plassen and then down to the opposite side of
the lake."

"Oh, I would like that."  She withdrew her hand carefully and he didn't
try to stop her.

"Only isn't there anything you want to do?  I mean, you must have
friends and your family..."

"I'll see them tomorrow on our way back.  Shall we go?"

He hadn't answered the first part of her question, and she didn't like
to repeat it.

Their way led past his home but he didn't stop, continuing along the
narrow road until he turned off and crossed the head of the lake and
drove slowly through Loenan to Loosdrecht, where he stopped at a small
waterside cafe and they had tea.  It was a pleasant afternoon with a
blue sky even though the wind was chilly and their surroundings were
charming, and Louise under the influence of Aldo's imperturbable manner
and his gentle flow of talk, relaxed completely.  She got back into the
car and sat, hardly speaking, as he drove along the road bordering the
lake back to Utrecht.  She was conscious of disappointment as he went
through the city back to the van Rijgens' house, but they had been away
for most of the day and she supposed that he would be going out again
that evening.

He stopped the car before the house and looked at his watch.

"We're going out to dinner,

you and I," he told her.

"Is half an hour long enough for you to change?"

"Won't Francesca be hurt?  I mean, arranging dinner and so on..."

"Oh, I told her we would be out this evening.  She thought it a
splendid idea."

Louise still hesitated.

"I haven't got a very grand dress with me."

He said seriously, "You always look very nice, Louise.  I do wonder why
girls worry so much about clothes."

They went indoors and found the van Rijgens in the nursery with their
small son, and presently Louise went to her room and got the grey crepe
dress Christine had made her pack out of the big clothes closet in her
room.  It was very simple but might pass muster.  She showered and
changed and put up her hair, then did her face very carefully.  The
result wasn't exactly breathtaking, but it would do.  She went
downstairs and found Aldo in one of his beautifully tailored dark grey
suits, and blushed a little when he said, "Quite delightful, Louise.

Fran and Litrik are in the drawing room Shall we say goodbye?  "

The evening turned out to be everything a girl could wish for.  The
restaurant was no distance from Zeist, but Aldo took a secondary road
across heath and woodland until they reached the outside of Amersfoort,
when he turned away, crisscrossing the wooded country, not hurrying and
carrying on a casual conversation in his most affable manner, so that
Louise's uneasiness was stilled.  She had no idea why she felt uneasy,
but it seemed to her that the doctor was being vague about the future.
She had tried, with one or two carefully thought-out questions, to find
out about his feelings for Zoe, but somehow he had never given a
satisfactory answer.  She hadn't been nosy, only given him the
opportunity to talk to her if he wanted to.  He didn't, that was
obvious.

When they reached the restaurant it was quite impossible to be worried
about anything.  It was very grand and specialised in seafood, its
clientele, from the look of things, was well heeled and well dressed.

She was horribly conscious that the grey dress was hardly in the
forefront of fashion, but she was too sensible to let that bother her
for more than a moment.

Their table was on the far side of the restaurant, and Aldo, behind
her, exchanged greetings with any number of people as they followed the
waiter, so that when they were seated she observed, "You must come here
often--a lot of people know you."

"Well, yes, I suppose so.  The lobster here is excellent, would you
like that?  And shall we start off with the par fait of chicken livers
with truffles and asparagus?"

So he didn't want to talk about himself, thought Louise, and thereafter
chatted brightly about everything under the sun except anything to do
with him or his family.  The excellent wine he had ordered helped, of
course; her tongue, usually so well controlled, had everything its own
way for once.  She was half way through her sweet--a delicious puff
pastry case filled with a nut mousse and swimming in some delectable
sauce--when the doctor said simply, "I wish we were alone."

The wine had indeed gone to her head.  She said brightly, "Oh, you
wouldn't want--I mean, all these people--and you know a lot of them,
and this is such a super restaurant."  She smiled at him, doing her
best to look and sound as though she meant every word.

"We wouldn't have anything to talk about," she went on recklessly.

"We're from different worlds, aren't we?  On two different paths, as it
were--you are a respected physician and I was the night sister you
encountered from time to time."  She paused to take a sip of wine.

"You've been awfully kind to me and I'm very grateful."  Her truant
tongue went on.

"But at least it meant that you met Zoe."

The doctor listened to all this at first with some astonishment and
then with well-hidden amusement and some delight.  Indeed, he actually
signalled the waiter to fill Louise's glass.  It was remarkable what a
couple of glasses of vintage white Burgundy could achieve.

"Paths quite often meet," he observed mildly.  He sighed a little.

"Tell me, what are you plans for the future?"

"Plans?  Oh, well, a job, something I can fit in with looking after the
others and Ivy Cottage..."

He asked casually, "Would you not like to see something of the world,
even England?  After all,

you are highly qualified, and there are always jobs for the more senior
nurses.  Zoe could take over the housekeeping, could she not?  "

"She's working full time.  Besides..."  She hesitated, "Besides, she'll
marry before very long, won't she?"

He took his coffee-cup from her.

"Of that I am quite sure."

Her euphoria melted away, although it was an answer she had expected.

"So you see, I can't go anywhere--not until Christine and Mike are
quite grown up."  She spoke in her sensible way and smiled at him,
because she loved him very much and she couldn't help herself.

They left the van Rijgens at midday and Louise smilingly agreed that
they were bound to meet again, aware that it was most unlikely.  Aldo
took the narrow road alongside the Vecht and turned in at his parents'
gates.  They had been expecting them, for coffee was ready for them,
and here again Louise murmured suitably when his mother and father both
expressed the hope of seeing her again.  She would have liked to have
done, for she thought they were both delightful; she must remember to
tell Zoe how pleasant they were.

Pieter got into the back of the car when they left and when they
reached Schipol carried their bags to the desk, bade them goodbye and
drove the Rolls away.  Louise boarded the plane and sat down beside
Aldo, un fidgeting and silent.  He had his briefcase with him, and she
was sure he would want to immerse himself in its contents.

Which he did, after making sure that she was quite comfortable and had
all she needed.  Beyond a short break for coffee and sandwiches, he
read solidly, making notes from time to time and she sat with the
magazines he had bought for her, pretending to read.  Something which
the doctor's eyes didn't fail to notice.

The Jaguar was there with a man standing beside it when they left
Heathrow.  The doctor ushered Louise into the front seat, had a brief
conversation with the man and got in beside her.

He drove the brief distance to the Excelsior Hotel opposite the airport
and parked the car.

"You must be hungry, I know I am."  He glanced at his watch and took
her arm.

"Shall we see what there is to eat?"

An unnecessary question to ask of a four-star hotel.  They had wild
mushroom soup, breast of duck with black cherries and lemon tart, and
since Aldo was driving they drank tonic water.  They finished their
meal with coffee, carrying on a desultory conversation about this and
that, easy enough to sustain on the doctor's part but Louise found it
difficult.  The more she saw of him, the more she longed to let her
muddled feelings tumble out and be sorted out by him.  It really was
becoming very difficult to maintain her normal sensible manner.

They left the hotel presently and the doctor drove round the motorway
and turned off towards Much Hadham, to stop outside Ivy

Cottage in nice time for tea.  He got out and opened Louise's door and
then stood quietly while Zoe, Christine and Mike rushed out to embrace
her and Dusty pushed his way among them, anxious not to be
overlooked.

Louise, trying to answer a dozen questions all at once, turned her head
in time to see Zoe fling her arms around Aldo's neck and kiss him.
Well, she had expected it, hadn't she?  She allowed herself to be borne
into the cottage where presently Zoe and Aldo joined them.

"I'll get your bag," said Aldo, and Louise said politely, "Thank you,
and of course you'll stay to tea..."

Which he did, making up for her lack of appetite by eating the
sandwiches and cake which Christine had made while carrying on a
conversation which included everyone.  If Louise was a little silent,
they put it down to tiredness after the journey, and no one commented
upon it.  He got up to go presently and they all went with him to the
door, where he turned round and looked at Louise standing behind the
others.

He said pleasantly, "Mrs.  Pratt will be back tomorrow, so there is no
need for you to come to work, Louise."

He got into his car and drove the short distance to his own home, and
they shut the door and began to clear away the tea things.  Louise went
to the kitchen sink and turned on the tap and started the washing up.

She felt peculiar, like someone who had had a sharp blow on the head
and at the same time she felt sick.

"That's nice," observed Zoe, picking up a tea towel and starting on the
cups and saucers.

"Now you can have a few days at home."

Louise agreed a little too quickly and turned thankfully to Mike, who
was wanting to know if she had brought anything back with her.

It wasn't too difficult to pretend Aldo hadn't said anything of the
sort, for the others asked endless questions about her trip to Holland
and then told her, blow by blow, just how they had spent the days she
had been away.  Miss Wills had been marvelous, they assured her, it was
like having an aunt or granny about the place, and she liked coming for
she wasn't settling down very well with her sister.

They all went to bed presently, and alone in her room, with nothing
else to distract her thoughts, Louise lay in bed and worried.  She must
have been a poor substitute for Mrs.  Pratt, since Aldo was so anxious
to get rid of her.  Why hadn't he told her sooner, or at least hinted
at it?

Somehow none of that was as bad as the sight of Zoe with her arms round
his neck, kissing him.  She would have to do something: to stay and see
the two of them together was more than she could bear.  Later, when she
had got back her normal calm, she would be able to cope.

She turned her pillows once more and closed her eyes, only to open them
immediately.  Perhaps Miss Wills would come back to Ivy Cottage and
house keep and she would find a job, for a few months at least, away
from home.  It struck her a little sadly that Mike and Christine were
not children any longer and, although they loved her, as long as there
was someone to cook for them and remind them about their manners and
keep an eye on them, they would be quite happy.  Zoe of course, married
to Aldo, would be near enough to keep an eye on them.  She closed her
eyes at last and slept for an hour or two before getting up to cook
breakfast and stuff the first of the washing into the machine.  She had
wept a good deal during the night, and her pretty nose was faintly pink
and there were shadows under her eyes, but no one said anything; Mike
and Christine were too intent on their breakfast and getting ready for
school, and Zoe, after one quick look, broke into a cheerful chatter
which filled in the time before she, too, left the house.

Alone, Louise let Dusty into the garden and left the kitchen door open
on to the bright morning.  She tidied the house, made her bed and
washed up; no one would be home until the late afternoon and she would
think about supper later on; in the meantime there was the washing.

She hung the first lot on the line and stuffed a second batch into the
washing machine, and all the while she wondered what Aldo was doing,
which reminded her that she would have to look for a job.  She sat down
at the table and wrote an advertisement for the Nursing Times and one
for the local paper; even if she put it in at once and had replies by
return, it would be ten days or more before references and interviews
and all the rest of it were done with.  Temporary work, she stressed in
the advertisement, for, the moment Zoe told her that she and Aldo were
to be married, she would lay her plans for getting away for a time. She
wasn't quite happy about that; the right thing would be for her to stay
and keep the home together, but her usual calm common sense seemed to
have deserted her.  She made coffee and left it to cool, forgetting to
drink it, and presently fetched in the dry wash and hung out the second
lot.  She might just as well do something while she tried to decide
what was the best thing to do.  It would of course be nice if she could
just go away, now this minute, as far away from Aldo as possible.  She
would avoid him at all costs, which shouldn't be difficult, even though
he only lived at the other end of the village.

She began to iron Mike's shirts, her plans quite eclipsed by daydreams,
so absorbing that she didn't hear the door-knocker, and when she looked
up there was Aldo, standing in the kitchen doorway watching her.

"I knocked," he said quietly, and smiled a little.  He looked tired,
but at the same time unshakeably calm.

"We have to talk, Louise."

"I'm busy."  The sight of him standing there had shattered her dreams,
and reality held no comfort.

"Another time."

"Now."  He leaned over the ironing board and unplugged the iron and set
it tidily on its stand.

"You've been crying.  Why?"

"That is my business."  Then she contradicted herself.

"You have no good reason and no right not to warn me Mrs.  Pratt was
back.  If it wasn't for Zoe..."

"What has Zoe to do with us?"

"Well, you're--That is, you and she...1 thought..."

He smiled then.

"Yes, I've been watching you think for quite a time, my darling, and a
more muddled lot of ideas I have yet to guess at.

Zoe is your sister, and because she is I'm fond of her, just as I'm
fond of Christine and Mike and Dusty, because they are part of you, but
it is you I love, dear heart.  I fell in love with you a long time ago,
but I wasn't sure how to make you aware of it--quite unapproachable you
were in your cap and apron with your calm efficiency.  I had to wait my
chance, didn't I?  And when it came I took it, and still you didn't
see.  Zoe did, but she is in love herself with that young George at her
office, so perhaps that made her more observant.  "

Louise, still entrenched behind the ironing board, had gone a little
pale.

"George?"  she echoed stupidly.

"George.  And having made that quite clear, we can talk about us.  Will
you marry me, Louise?  So many times I have been on the point of asking
you, but really, my dear heart, I cannot go on any longer without
you."

quite a time, you know.  I think we shall be very happy.  "

He kissed her very thoroughly.

"I am quite sure that we shall."  It sounded like a promise, and
Louise, looking up into his face, knew that it was.