WINTER WEDDING [070-4.8]

By: BETTY NEELS

Synopsis:

The donor did not send a synopsis with this book.  If you read it and
would like to donate a synopsis, we would be grateful.

CHAPTER ONE

it was snowing outside, and the pallid faces of the night nurses coming off
duty looked even more pallid in its glaring whiteness.  Emily Seymour, one of
the last to go, traipsed down the stairs from the top floor, where she had
been in charge of the Ear, Nose and Throat wards, yawning widely, longing for
her bed and knowing that it would be some time before she could get into it;
it would be even longer today, she decided gloomily, glancing out of a
landing window.  The snow had settled and cycling through the streets would
be a slow business.  A pretty girl in staff nurse's uniform, bounding up the
staircase towards her, paused to join her at the window.

"Lucky you, Emily," she exclaimed cheerfully, 'going home to a nice warm bed.
Had a busy night?  " She glanced at her companion with sympathy.

"No, don't answer, I can see you did.  What happened?"

"Terry had to have a trachy at two o'clock this morning.  I got Mr Spencer
up--or at least, I rang his flat when Night Sister told me to and she
couldn't be there because the Accident  Department was going hell for
leather and he brought Professor Jurres-Romeijn with him."  She paused,
staring out into the freshly whirling snow.

"I had everything ready, he did it in seconds Hat."

The pretty girl rolled a pair of fine eyes.

"Oh, him.  He's the answer to every girl's dream; such a pity that no one
knows anything about him and that he's not going to stay for ever.  I must
think up some good reason for going along to ENT this morning and see if I
can soften him up a bit.  I daresay..."  she paused, listening.

"Oh, God, that sounds like Sister Gates by trundling our way.

"Bye, love, be good."

And when have I ever had the chance to be anything else?  thought Emily,
going on her way once more.

She met Sister Gates by at the bottom of the second flight and that lady,
stoutish and almost due to retire, seized on her at once.

"Just the girl!"  she breathed happily.

"Just run back for me.  Staff Nurse, and get the keys off the hook in Sister
Reeves' office in ENT, will you?  You can leave them at the Porter's Lodge as
you go out; Theatre Sister wants them."

She turned and wheezed her way down again, leaving Emily to trail all the way
upstairs once more, muttering darkly under her breath.  But she had finished
her muttering by the time she had reached the top floor; for one thing she
was a  little short of wind and for another she had just remembered that her
nights off were due in two days' time; she occupied the last few yards in
making plans, then opened the swing doors and went through, into the landing
which opened into the two wards, the kitchen.  Sister's Office, the dressing
room and the linen cupboard.  The keys would be in Sister's Office, the first
door on the left.  She could hear the nurses in the ward, already well
started on the day's routine; by the time Sister came on everything would be
as it should be.  She crossed the landing and then stopped with her hand on
the door; Mr Spencer and Professor Jurres-Romeijn were in the dressing room,
their backs towards her.  She could see Mr Spencer's bald patch on the back
of his head about which he was so sensitive because he was still quite a
young man, and she could see the Professor's iron-grey cropped head, towering
over his companion, for he was a vast man and very tall.  He was speaking
now, his voice, with its faint Dutch accent, very clear, although not loud.

"Good lord.  Harry, am I to be fobbed off with that prim miss?  Surely
there's another nurse.  ..?"  He sounded annoyed.

Mr Spencer put up a hand to rub the bald patch.

"Sorry, sir--she's first class at her job..  ."

"I take your word for that--we are talking about the same girl, I suppose?

A small, plump  creature who merges into the background from whatever angle
one looks at her.  "

Mr Spencer chuckled.

"That's our Emily--a splendid worker and marvelous with children.  You'll
find that she grows on you, sir."

"Heaven forbid!  The only females who grow on me are beautiful blondes who
don't go beetroot red every time I look at them."

Emily forced herself to move then and in direct contradiction to the
Professor's words, her face was chalk white, not red at all.  She went
silently into Sister's Office, took the keys and went back down the endless
stairs, the Professor's words ringing in her ears.  She had the nasty feeling
that she was never going to forget them for as long as she lived, and through
her tired brain the beginnings of a fine temper began to flare.

She was prim, was she, and plump and given to blushing, something which the
Professor, loathe some type that he was, found both amusing and tiresome!
She gained the Porter's Lodge, slammed down the keys in old Henry's
astonished face and pranced out of the hospital entrance.  Well, he had made
it known all too clearly that he didn't want her for some job or other; she
would make it just as clear to him that she wasn't going to oblige him.  Let
him find another nurse to wait on him hand and foot; someone with blonde
curls and blue eyes.  .  .

 Emily, in the cupboard-like room by the bicycle shed where the nurses who
lived out were expected to change, tore the cap off her own unspectacular
brown hair, coiled so neatly, and began to race out of her uniform.

Presently, buoyed up with her rage, she got her bike from the shed and
oblivious of snow and slush, pedalled home.

Home was a small semi-detached villa on the very outskirts of the town.

Emily, giving up a good post in London, had searched desperately for some
months until she had found both a large hospital and a home close by.  The
hospital was one of the new ones, magnificently equipped, destined to take
the over spill from London, ten miles away, and still a source of some
astonishment to the inhabitants of the small town where it had been built.

It took her ten minutes to cycle home, but today, because of the snow, she
took a good deal longer and arrived at the wrought iron gate with "Home lea'
written on it, in a breathless state.  Louisa, her younger sister, would be
waiting with her breakfast, something she hated to do.

She parked her bike in the little shed at the side of the house and went in
through the back door.

Louisa was in the kitchen, her pretty face screwed up with peevishness.

"You're late," she began.

"The twins are being little devils and they've both been sick."

 Emily made soothing murmurs; probably Louisa, who was only eighteen and
impatient, had given them their morning feeds so fast that they had no choice
but to bring the lot up again.

"I can't wait," went on Louisa loudly, 'until I can get away from this hole.
.  only another month, thank God!  "

Emily unwound the scarf from her neck.

"Yes, dear."  She could have voiced her nightmare fears of what was going to
happen when Louisa went; Mary, their elder sister, and the twins' mother, was
still in the Middle East, unable to leave until her husband had been cleared
of some trumped-up charge about something or other to do with his work.  She,
and her husband, should have been home months ago; the twins were to have
been left with Emily for three months, no longer, an arrangement which seemed
sensible at the time; they were too young to take with her, Mary had decided,
and besides, she had had no idea if she would be able to get adequate help,
even a good doctor.  Louisa, waiting to go into a school for modelling, was
staying with Emily, and a month or two in a London flat, with both sisters to
look after them, was the answer.

Only it hadn't worked out like that.  At the end of the three months, Mary
had managed to get a message to Emily, begging her to look after the twins
for another few months at least,  and she, looking at them, rapidly growing
from small babies to energetic large ones, quite overflowing the small flat
close to the big London teaching hospital where she worked, decided that the
only thing to do was to move to a small town where she might with luck find a
house with a garden.  Louisa hadn't liked the idea, of course, but as Emily
had pointed out in her sensible way, the babies mattered; she had promised to
look after them until Mary and George came home again and until they did
there was nothing else to do about it.

"And after all, darling," Emily had explained patiently, 'you'll be starting
your course in a few months' time and probably they'll be back by then--I
know Mary said several months, but she couldn't have meant that.  "

She had been lucky, getting a post as staff nurse at the new hospital on the
outskirts of London, with the prospect of a Sister's post in a few months'
time.  Of course it wasn't a patch on Paul's, where she had trained, but she
couldn't complain; she had found a house at a reasonable rent, and furnished
it rather sparsely with the things she had brought from the London flat, odds
and ends of furniture she had brought from home after her parents died.  But
the house had a small garden and the air was fresh, and if one looked out of
the kitchen window one could see fields and trees--not real country, of
course,  it was too near London for that, but at least the twins could be
taken out in their pram along the quieter roads around them.

Emily took off her coat and looked round the little kitchen.  It looked
untidy and not as clean as she would have liked.  Louisa, understandably,
hated housework, it spoilt her hands with their long fingers and tapering
nails although she tried hard, Emily told herself loyally, coping with the
shopping and the babies.

She dismissed as unimportant the fact that Louisa only did what she had to
do, and that grudgingly.  At Louisa's age and with her pretty face and
figure, it was understandable that she should want to avoid all the humdrum
jobs; if she had been as pretty herself, she would doubtless have felt just
the same.  But she wasn't pretty oh, pleasant enough; at least she didn't
squint or have enormous ears, but her face was unspectacular and she was a
little too plump; Louisa was always telling her so.  Emily took it in good
part.  After all, Louisa hadn't had the happy childhood and girlhood that she
had had and she had loved her three years' training, going home for days off
and holidays while her parents were alive, and Mary in a good job at the
local library until she had met George and married him.  Louisa had been at
school then, impatient to leave and make her mark in the world.  She had
known what she wanted to do; modelling  and as she had a small legacy due to
her when she was eighteen and a half, no one could stop her enrolling at one
of the London modelling schools; in a month she would be able to start.  In
the meantime, she cooled her heels with Emily and the twins and Emily used
the money Mary had left for the twins' needs, to house and feed Louisa too.
It was a difficult business, making ends meet, and she had had to give up
several small luxuries in order to do it, and when Louisa went she didn't
dare to think of the extra expense of getting baby-sitters to look after the
twins while she was working.  She would have to continue on night duty until
Mary came to collect them and it was to be hoped that it would be soon,
before Louisa went away.

Emily stifled a sigh and went upstairs to the babies' room.  They were both
sitting up in their cots, a bouncing eight-month-old and disarmingly
beautiful.  William was an hour or so older than Claire but it was almost
impossible to tell the difference between them, for each reflected the other
one's face.  Emily, forgetting her tiredness, picked them up to cuddle them,
and it wasn't until Louisa called from the kitchen that she popped them back
with their toys and went downstairs.

At the table Louisa said with faint defiance: "The hairdresser can only do me
at half past nine--I'll have to go."

 Emily, her mouth full of toast, did her best to sound cheerful.

"Oh well, yes, of course, love How long will you be?"

"I'll be back by eleven o'clock I can take the twins out then.  I'll bath
them this evening..."

Emily poured more tea.

"I'll bath them," and added without a vestige of truth,

"I'm not tired."  She smiled cheerfully in case Louisa felt guilty.

"I'll dress them ready to go out when you get back.  It's a beastly day, but
they'll be all right wrapped up."

Louisa pouted.

"Oh, Emily, must they go out?  Pushing the pram in all this snow..."

"I cycled back it wasn't too bad.  It's not for much longer, dear; think how
you're going to enjoy yourself living in London and meeting all sorts of
exciting people.  Did you hear about the flat?"

Louisa's pretty face became animated.

"Yes, it's all settled; four of us, so it won't cost much.  The course only
lasts two months and I'm bound to get a job."

Emily, eyeing her pretty sister, thought that she most certainly would.  It
would be nice, she thought a little wistfully, to be as pretty as Louisa, so
that men looked at one twice instead of not at all.  She frowned, remembering
Professor Jurres-Romeijn's remarks, and Louisa said in a surprised way:
"Gosh, you look simply  furious what's wrong with me sharing a flat, for
heaven's sake?"

Emily blinked.

"Not you, love, I was thinking about something quite different.  Oughtn't you
to be going?  I'll wash up."

She washed up and tidied the little house as well as seeing to the twins, and
as Louisa didn't get home until twelve o'clock, she wasn't in bed until an
hour later than that and by then too tired to bother her head about the
Professor's opinion of her.  The snow was worse when she got up and she had
to walk to the hospital after helping to feed the twins and get them to bed
and then eating a meal herself, a kind of high tea so that she wouldn't be
too hungry during the night.  Food in the canteen was expensive and although
she managed very well, she had to be careful.  She told herself often enough
that it was good for her to eat less, she'd get slim that way.

The wards were full and busy and it took her and her junior nurse quite two
hours to settle their occupants.  Men in one ward, women in the other and a
small ward for children besides.  Terry, who had slept soundly all day after
his tracheotomy, was wide awake, sitting up against his pillows, declaring
that he wouldn't be able to sleep like that, anyway.

Emily soothed him in a reassuring voice and didn't tell him that she would
have to disturb him frequently throughout the night when she changed and
cleaned the tube.

 She made sure that the suction machine was in position with plenty of
Toronto catheters and that there was a tracheotomy mask handy in case she
should need one, together with dilators, a spare tube and scissors.  Her
junior nurse was very junior, unfortunately, and it wouldn't be fair to
expect her to undertake any of the treatment; there should have been a
special, thought Emily worriedly as she trotted off to see why the
tonsillectomy was bawling.  He wanted a drink; she gave him one, tucked him
up and promised him ice cream in the morning and sped back to the Men's ward.

Most of the men had settled for the night, so she did a quick round and then
went to the nurses' station between the wards--but not for long.  She had
pulled the first of the pile of charts to be filled in towards her when old
Mrs Crewe, suffering from a small tumour in one ear, demanded attention.  She
was a nice old lady who had lived alone for years and was of an independent
turn of mind; she made it clear now that she had had enough of bed, enough,
moreover, of hospital, and wanted to go home.

Emily took time to talk her out of it.  She still had a lot to do and she
would have to see to Terry again very shortly, but she gave no sign of
impatience and presently, with the old lady sufficiently satisfied to agree
to stay until the morning at least, she got up off the bed where  she had
perched herself.

"A nice cup of tea?"  she suggested.

"Just the thing to send you off to sleep."

Mrs Crewe didn't answer her at once because she was peering towards the end
of her bed, so Emily turned round to look too.  Night Sister was standing
there and with her.  Professor JurresRomeijn.

Sister Gates by nodded and smiled.

"Nurse shall make the tea," was all she said.

"Staff Nurse, the Professor wants to talk to you--come into the office."

The strip lighting in Sister's office was glaringly bright and not in the
least kind to one's looks.  Emily put up an absent hand to her cap and hoped
that her nose wasn't shining too much.  Not that it would matter; was she not
small and plump and prim?  She felt a surge of indignation at the sight of
the Professor standing there; the bright light didn't detract from his good
looks in the very least.  His thick brows were drawn together in a frown and
his arrogant nose and stern mouth didn't make any difference either.

He looked back at her.  His eyes were very blue and rather cold and because
it annoyed her that he should look so stunning without making any effort at
all, she said tartly: "I'm very busy; there's Terry to see to in five
minutes."

Sister Gates by looked shocked.  She was a  tolerant woman and prided
herself on being with it, but one thing she had never quite managed to
swallow--the attitude of the nurses towards the doctors.  The Professor's
expression didn't alter.

"This will take three minutes, provided that you listen and don't interrupt."

Emily drew a calming breath, stuffed back the retort which she longed to
utter and went on staring at him.

"You worked for Mr Wright at your teaching hospital, I believe.  Staff
Nurse?"  He hardly gave her time to nod her head.

"He has CA of pharynx, unfortunately no symptoms presented until I examined
him last week and found an enlarged gland.  He will be coming here as a
patient and I shall be operating upon him.  I shall be obliged if you will
undertake to nurse him."

Emily had liked Mr Wright.  She had worked in ENT theatre with him and
special led several of his cases; it was tragic that he should be struck down
by condition which he had so often diagnosed and treated himself.  It would
have given her the greatest satisfaction to have refused to work for the
Professor, but her personal feelings didn't really matter.

"Well?"  asked the Professor in a voice which brooked no delay.

"Certainly I'll nurse Mr Wright.  Am I to work under you.  Professor?"

"Yes.  Mr Spencer will give you the details in  the morning."  He sounded
annoyed; perhaps she should have said no.  .  His goodnight was brief and
unsmiling as he turned on his heel and stalked away.  Even from the back he
looked super, mused Emily, watching him go.

And elegant too a trendy dresser, even if he wasn't all that young.

Sister Gates by's voice broke into her thoughts.

"Well, that's settled.

Staff Nurse.  I'm not quite sure when you're to take up your new duties, but
you'll get your nights off first.  Such a nice man, the Professor, always so
polite.  .  .  "

The dear old thing must be joking, thought Emily or perhaps he was, to those
he liked or tolerated.  Anyone else, and that meant her, she supposed, was
treated as though they just didn't matter.  She stifled a giggle, remembering
that he had said that she merged into the background whichever way he looked
at her.

"Why are you smiling?"  asked Sister Gates by quite sharply.

"Oh, nothing nothing at all.  Sister.  Would you excuse me if I went along to
see to Terry?  He's doing fine, but he needs an eye kept on him."

Sister Gates by tutted worriedly.

"There should have been a special for him, but there just aren't the nurses.
I'll send someone up to relieve you for your meal break.  Nurse We ekes is
far too inexperienced."  She frowned, already busy with  who she could send.

"Give me a bleep if you're not happy," she counselled Emily as she went.

The night went rapidly; too fast for Emily, struggling to get finished by the
time the day staff came on duty.  She had sent Nurse We ekes off duty and was
wrapping herself in her cloak when Mr Spencer came through the swing doors
exclaiming: "Ah, just the girl I want.  Can you spare a few minutes?"  He
looked at her tired face, and added kindly: "You've had the hell of a night,
I suspect.  Here, we'll borrow Sister's office until she's ready to come into
it.  Just a minute."

He went off down the ward to where the Day Sister was in the middle of her
morning round, and when he came back he swept Emily into the little room, sat
her down in the chair beside the desk and went away again.

"Coffee," he told her, seconds later.

"Sister says we may have some while we talk."

Emily beamed at him.

"I hope it's not too complicated--I mean I'm half asleep..."

"All very easy.  Professor JurresRomeijn came to see me last night and we got
it all sorted out.  Mr Wright's being admitted in two days' time, you're to
have two nights off--that's tonight and tomorrow night, and report for duty
at nine o'clock, perhaps earlier, on the following morning.  You're to do day
duty and probably you'll have to do a few extra hours, Emily.

 You're to go to theatre with your patient and assist the anaesthetist, got
to ITU with him and stay there until he's fit to take to the ward and you'll
hand over at the Professor's wish, and if he wants you back on duty you'll
just have to do that, any time.  He wants that clearly understood.  "

The ward maid brought in their coffee and Emily poured it out.  She said in a
level voice: "I'm surprised that Professor JurresRomeijn gets anyone to work
for him, but I'll do exactly as he wishes because I like Mr Wright and I'd
want him to recover--that's my only reason for agreeing to work for the
Professor."

Mr Spencer spooned far too much sugar into his mug.

"Yes, well.  he's good at his job, you know, Emily."

"I'm sure he is.  But why's Mr Wright coming here?"

"Because he doesn't want everyone to know about it.  It's bound to leak out,
of course, but not at once, and Professor Jurres-Romeijn is going up to
Edinburgh in a few weeks and Mr Wright wouldn't stand the journey.

Besides that, you know as well as I do that speed is of the essence for him.
"

Emily re-filled their mugs.

"Yes.  Has he a good chance, do you think?"

Mr Spencer thought for a moment.

"JurresRomeijn is about the best there is; he's done a number of
pharyngectomies and had a high  percentage of successes.  Of course it's a
severe operation, you know that, and it means Mr Wright will have to learn
oesophageal speech or have an electric larynx fitted, but from what I hear of
him he sounds very able to cope with the difficulties."  He smiled at Emily,
visibly wilting but listening carefully.

"Besides, he'll have you to nurse him; you've got yourself a marvelous
reputation since you've been with us, Emily, and it was just as good at
Paul's, wasn't it?"

She smiled a little and just for a moment was tempted to tell him that she
had overheard his conversation with the Professor, but that wouldn't do any
good to anybody and she would regret it afterwards.  She finished her coffee
and said: "I'd better go to the office, I suppose."

And that was a speedy business; she was in and out again within five minutes.
Apparently the Professor had made his wishes known and had paved the way for
her.  Not because he was taken with her, Emily reminded herself wryly as she
wobbled home in the slush which was all that was left of the snow.  It was
warmer too, but then it was still only the middle of November, time enough
for snow during the next month or two.

She told Louisa her news over breakfast and her sister said at once: "Oh,
good, I wanted to go to London--to see about the flat, you know,  and I was
wondering how I could manage it before your next nights off.

I'll go tomorrow.  "

Emily agreed, pointing out that once she started on her case, she might not
have much free time for a little while.

"Oh, well, perhaps he'll die," observed Louisa airily.

"Not if I can help it.  He's got a splendid surgeon and there's no reason why
he shouldn't be perfectly OK."

Louisa shrugged her shoulders.

"Well, darling, let's hope he'll get over it.  It sounds grisly to me; I
don't know how you can stand it, and for a pittance, too.  I'll earn as much
in a week as you do in a month once I get a modelling job."  She smiled, well
pleased at the thought.

"I'll wash up if you like while you see to the twins, then I'll take them out
while you have a sleep."

Emily sighed gratefully and then sighed again as Louisa went on: "There's a
film on this evening, that girl across the road asked me to go with her you
won't mind?"

Emily said that she didn't; Louisa was only eighteen and being eighteen
didn't last long.  She dealt with the twins' small wants, put them down for
their morning nap and went to bed herself.

Her nights off went very quickly.  She had more than enough to do when Louisa
went to London, but she enjoyed her day; the twins, although hard work, were
delightful.  She pushed them for miles through the common behind the  road
where she lived and returned to give the house a good clean.  And the next
day was almost wholly taken up with shopping and listening to Louisa's
ecstatic description of the flat and her future flat mates.  Emily, tired out,
slept like a log, got up early to see to the twins, advised her sister that
she had no idea when she would be home, and cycled to the hospital.

Mr Wright was to have one of the private rooms attached to the Men'sENT
ward.  After a briefing from Sister she retired into it, readied it for its
occupant, checked the equipment she would be using, arranged the flowers
which her patient's friends had sent to welcome him, and went down to her
dinner, where she shared a table with several of her friends.

"Lucky you," observed one of them, 'working for that Professor
Jurres-Romeijn.  I could go for someone like him I suppose he's married, they
always are.  " The speaker cocked a questioning eyebrow at Emily, who shook
her head.

"I've no idea, but I should think so, I mean, he's not awfully young, is he?"

"Who cares?"  The ENT staff nurse, Carol Drew, joined in.

"I'm going to have to go."

Emily said mildly: "Why not?"  And why not indeed?  Carol was pretty, as
pretty as Louisa, all pink and white and golden with large blue eyes to melt
a stone, and surely the Professor as well.  She got up to fetch the puddings
and when  she got back someone asked: "Why you, Emily?"

She spooned steamed pudding before she answered.

"Well, Mr Wright comes from Paul's and I worked for him there."

"The Professor didn't actually choose you, then?  I mean, Mr Wright wanted
you, I suppose?"

"I suppose so."  Emily bolted the rest of her pudding and got up.

"I'd better get back, he was supposed to be here before one o'clock, but he
hasn't turned up yet..  ."

"Don't blame him," declared Carol.

"I wouldn't turn up either."  She got up too.

"I'll come back with you, Emily, you never know, the Professor might be
there."  She whipped out a compact and peered into it.

"Do I look all right?"

"You always look all right.  I daresay when he sees you he'll ask us to do a
swap," said Emily.

But she was wrong.  The Professor was waiting in his patient's room, sitting
on the side of the carefully made bed, tucking up the quilt in a careless
fashion.  He got up as Emily, with Carol hard on her heels, went in, and
beyond a coldly polite

"Good morning," showed no signs of being bowled over by Carol's looks, let
alone suggesting that she might do instead of Emily.  Indeed, he waited
silently and rather pointedly until Carol had gone before addressing himself
to Emily.

"You're quite ready.  Nurse Seymour?  Mr  Wright will be here within the
hour.  You will be good enough to let me know when he arrives.  I shall
probably be in theatre.  I should like him to undress and get to bed as soon
as possible; there are a number of tests to be done and I shall wish to
examine him."

He strolled to the door.

"You enjoyed your nights off?"  he asked her surprisingly.

The?  Oh--yes, thank you.  "

"Good.  I hope Mr Spencer made it plain to you that your off duty is likely
to be irregular and curtailed for the next few days.  I hope to operate
tomorrow--in the morning; you will probably be on duty until late in the
evening."

"Yes, sir."

"If I am not quite satisfied with Mr Wright's condition, you may have to stay
on call."

"Yes, sir."

He glanced at her curiously.

"You can make arrangements for this?"

She just stopped herself from saying

"Yes, sir," yet again, and changed it to: "Certainly I can."

He nodded unsmilingly, said,

"H'm," and went away, leaving her to fly to Sister's office and telephone
Louisa, who wasn't at all pleased at the idea of being left with the twins,
even for one night.

"Well," observed Emily, 'you'll be all right, love, and probably I'll be
home, and it's not  until tomorrow night, you know--I'll be back tonight.
Only I thought I'd better give you plenty of warning.  "

"I was going to that disco with Roy'--Roy was the rather vapid youth who
lived next door.  " I suppose I'll have to stay home, now.  "

"I'm afraid so."  Emily felt a little surge of impatience.  Louisa was her
sister and a dear girl, even if a bit spoilt, but she was making an awful
fuss about nothing, especially as Emily was the one who was earning their
bread and butter.  She squashed the thought, cautioned Louisa about several
small chores which would need to be done, and hung up.

Mr Wright arrived presently, the shadow of his former chubby self but
remarkably cheerful.  "Best surgeon in Europe," he told her in a
frighteningly hoarse voice, 'and best nurse, too--can't help but get better,
can I?  "

He had brought his wife with him, a pretty little woman with grey hair,
exquisitely cut, and elegant clothes.  She was as determinedly cheerful as he
was and nice to Emily.

"I'll go away for a bit, shall I?"  she suggested.

"If you'll tell me when I can come back?"

"Ten minutes," said Emily promptly.

"Mr Wright has to undress and get into bed while I get Professor
Jurres-Romeijn.  I expect he'll want to talk to you--there's a waiting
room..."

"I'll find it.  Staff Nurse--no, I shall call  you Emily, if I may.  Ten
minutes, then."

Mr Wright was in bed and Emily was drawing the covers over him when the
Professor walked in.  He greeted his patient affably, said briefly: "Don't
go," to Emily, and sat down on the bed.  "You've brought Maud with you?"  he
wanted to know.

"I'll have a look at you now; and then I'll have a chat with her, shall

I?  "

The look, a very thorough one, took half an hour and Emily was kept on her
toes, handing this and that and the other, filling in forms and unscrewing
specimen bottles.  She was surprised when the Professor thanked her for her
service, albeit laconically, and asked her to go and tell Mrs Wright that he
would be along to see her in a few minutes, a request which she took to mean
that he wanted her out of the way for a bit while he and his patient talked.
She found Mrs Wright in the waiting room, leafing through an old copy of
Woman and not attempting to read it, gave her message and then sat down and
made conversation until the Professor came through the door.

She was about to slip away when he said: "I shall want to talk to you
presently.  Nurse Seymour," before turning his attention to Mrs Wright.

It was fifteen minutes or more before he returned to Mr Wright's room where
Emily was making a neat list of the flower givers so that  Mrs Wright could
send thank-you letters.  She wrote the last name without undue haste and
looked up at the Professor, towering over her.  He looked cross, but then he
often did; perhaps he had a gastric ulcer.  "You're looking at me as though I
were the patient," he said blandly.

She said hastily that she really hadn't been looking at him,

"Only into the background," she added, just as blandly, and saw his eyebrows
go up.

"And that will give you something to think about," she told him silently.

The Professor turned away to speak to his patient for a moment, then invited
her to follow him out of the room.

"Sister's office," he suggested, and opened its door for her.

"This is going to be rather touch and go," he began without preamble.

"Mr Wright isn't over-optimistic and quite realises that his chances are on
the small side.  All the more reason for us to make a success of it."  He
smiled suddenly at her, so that she caught her breath.  He looked quite
different; it was like someone opening a door.  .  "I shall ask a great deal
of you, Emily; you'll have your work cut out.  Will you stay until this
evening--until the night nurse comes on duty?  and I'll want you here by
seven o'clock tomorrow morning--you'll be here all day and I'll want you on
call for the night.  Probably the next couple of days as well."

 She eyed him calmly.

"Very well, sir.  May I know what you're going to do?"

"Yes, of course.  I'll have to do a laryngectomy as well as remove the tumour
of the pharynx and do a block resection of the glands as well..  ."

He elaborated at some length and she listened carefully, stopping him now and
again so that he might make something she hadn't understood clear.

Presently he got up from the table where he had been sitting.

"That's the lot, I think," and just for a moment she thought that he was
going to say something else, but he didn't, only opened the door for her,
remarking that he would be along to see his patient later on in the day,
bringing the anaesthetist with him.

The rest other day was spent in preparing Mr Wright for the morning,
explaining just where everything would be when he came round from the
anaesthetic; that she would be with him all the time, and that on no account
was he to get fussed about anything.

"There'll be a pad and pencil under your hand," she reminded him, 'as well as
a bell within reach and me.  "

He laughed at her, a funny cracked sound.  "Never mind the pad and bell,"

he whispered, 'you'll do on your own, Emily.  I've great faith in you, my
dear.  " I've never seen you put out by anything yet and I've never seen you
look defeated, either."

 "Who's talking about defeat?"  asked Emily strongly.

The Professor came about nine o'clock, spent five minutes with his patient,
and then leaving the anaesthetist with him, went off to brief the night
nurse, an elderly staff nurse, recently widowed and returned to nursing, a
solid, sensible woman who liked Emily and could be relied upon to do all she
could for her patient.  He was away for half an hour; it was ten o'clock by
the time Emily got on to her bike for the ride home, and midnight before she
got to bed.  Louisa had been tearful at the prospect of looking after the
house and the twins, and resentful too.  You'd think, decided Emily, getting
ready for bed, that I was going on holiday or something!  She got into bed,
curled up into a tight ball round her hot water bottle, and went to sleep at
once.

CHAPTER TWO

it was dark, cold and wet when Emily left the house at half past five the
next morning.  The twins and Louisa were still sleeping and she hadn't
bothered with breakfast, only a quick, strong cup of tea.  She tied her
overnight bag on to her bike and pedalled briskly through the almost deserted
streets.  Bar the odd milkman and a police car idling along, giving her a
nice sense of security, there were few people about.  The rather ugly modern
town looked bleak and unfriendly and before many minutes the rain was
dripping steadily down the back of her neck.  She hadn't had time to do much
to her face and her hair was going to be sopping by the time she arrived.
She changed in the cold little room, scraped her fine brown hair back into
some sort of a bun, pinned her cap on top of it and went through to the
hospital.  The early morning rush was on; almost no noise, only the steady
hurried tread of the nurses trying to get done before the day staff arrived.
Emily gained ENT without seeing anyone at all, checked with the night staff
nurse, telephoned Night Super that she was on duty and went along to Mr
Wright's room.

32  He'd had a bad night, that was obvious, but his cheerfulness was
unabated, so Emily was cheerful too, telling him silly little tales of her
training at Paul's and not mentioning the day's dire work while she readied
him.

She was relieved for breakfast after an hour, a meal she swallowed in no time
at all, and when she got back she found Mrs Wright had just arrived.

"I'm not supposed to be here," the little lady hadn't slept either--'and I'm
going again at once, dear.  " She smiled at Emily.

"I know you'll do your very best."

"I will, Mrs Wright, and don't worry, Mr Wright is going to be all right.

Professor JurresRomeijn is tops, you know, he's done this op before a good
many times and he's successful.  "

"A generous statement.  Nurse Seymour."  The Professor's voice held mockery
and she swung round to see him standing in the doorway, immaculate as usual
even at that early hour and the only one of them who looked as though he had
had a good sleep.  She didn't speak; she couldn't think of anything to say
and there was no point in it.  She stared at his faintly sneering mouth, and
disliked him very much.

He didn't speak to her again but addressed himself to his patient and Mrs
Wright, only as he went away he reminded her that Mr Wright  would be going
to theatre in exactly half an hour and as from now was to receive no more
visitors, nor talk, or rather, try to talk.  He paused at the door to allow
Mrs Wright to say goodbye to her husband, then swept her away with him, not
looking at Emily at all.

Mr Wright broke the Professor's rules the moment the door was closed.  He
said in his strained voice: "I wonder ifRenier knows what a treasure he's got
working for him?  I must remember to point it out to him in writing, of
course."  He grinned at her and closed his eyes.

"Now you be a good boy," begged Emily in a motherly voice, 'or I'll turn into
an old battle axe!  "

The operation lasted a very long time.  The Professor worked quickly but
meticulously too, muttering to himself from time to time, requesting some
instrument or other in an almost placid voice, asking details from the
anaesthetist from time to time regarding his patient's blood pressure and
condition.  Emily, standing at the anaesthetist's elbow, had to admire his
skill, and he must be getting a frightful backache, she thought
in consequently, bending like that.  They were all three very close together
with Mr Spencer on the other side of the Professor and an assistant across
the table ready to hold things and tie off and cut gut when required.
Theatre Sister was scrubbed, of course, and so was the  senior staff nurse,
and there were other nurses there too.  A splendid turn-out, thought Emily,
counting heads without taking her mind off her work.

The atmosphere was nicely relaxed; she had worked for surgeons who had
everyone biting their nails with nerves because they were so ill-tempered.
She could remember one occasion when a surgeon had flung an instrument on to
the ground and then had to wait while it was picked up, scrubbed, sterilised
and handed back to him; a bad-tempered man he had been, and give the
Professor his due, with the exception of herself, he appeared to have
everyone there eating out of his hand.

The morning wore on until finally the Professor straightened his great back
and stood back from the table.  His thanks were pleasantly uttered before he
turned on his heel and went along to the changing room.  Not that he'd be
there long, Emily decided, he'd be in and out of ITU for the next hour or so,
getting in her way.  She knew her job well and set about connecting tubes to
sealed bottles, setting up a drip again, checking the cardiac arrest trolley,
the tracheotomy trolley, the oxygen, the ventilator.  She had a student nurse
to help her, to fetch and carry, but she was responsible for her patient to
the Professor and any mistakes,  whether she made them or not, would be her
fault.

Just as she had thought, the Professor was in and out of the room for the
rest of the day and a good deal of the night as well, and when he had come to
examine his patient in the early evening he had requested her politely to
remain on duty for a few more hours.  Doctor Wright was conscious but fretful
and worried because he couldn't speak.  Emily, reassuring him gently, found
it pathetic that he had assured so many of his own patients in like case and
still needed that reassurance himself, and her opinion of the Professor was
considerably heightened by the kindly understanding he showed towards his
patient.

"We'll keep him doped,"

he told her.  "I've written him up again for another jab at ten o'clock and
I'll be in just after to see how he is.  He'll need more blood--is there
plenty available?"

Emily said,

"Yes, sir."

"And I'll take a blood gas estimation."

She produced the tray without a word, waited while he withdrew the blood,
signed to her assistant to take it to the Path.  Lab.  at once, and applied a
swab to the puncture, standing patiently for five minutes while the Professor
leaned over the foot of the bed, watching the patient and, from time to time,
her.

"I should be obliged if you could be on duty  as early as possible in the
morning," he observed quietly.

Emily had her eyes on her watch.

"Would half past seven suit, sir?"

"Very well.  I'm afraid you're in for a rough time for the next few days."

"Not half as rough as Mr Wright," she told him matter-of factly.

But the next few days were rough.  Mr Wright was a good patient but naturally
enough irritable, for Emily was constantly busy with something or other,
turning him, with the other nurse, from side to side, sucking him out,
charting her observations, feeding him through his intra nasal naso-gastric
tube, tending his tracheotomy.  He vented his spleen on to his writing pad,
scrawling the invective he would have liked to utter so that on occasion she
was forced to admit that she had no idea of what he meant.

"You see," she told him apologetically, 'there's no man about the house to
swear, so I'm a bit out of touch.  "

"Then it's high time there was," Doctor Wright scribbled furiously.

"Does Professor JurresRomeijn know?  about the twins--and your sister?"

Her

"No!"  was so fierce that he had added hastily: "All right, keep your brown
hair on; I shall't tell."  He put his pencil down and then picked it up again.

"You don't like him."

Emily's hazel eyes flashed.

"Never mind that,  Doctor Wright.  He's a splendid surgeon."

"He's a man as well," wrote her patient slowly, 'a bit crusty sometimes, but
I'd like him on my side in a fight.  Nice with children too.  "

"I have no doubt of it," said Emily tartly, 'and now lie still while I see to
your feed.  "

She was a first class nurse--besides, she had made up her mind that Doctor
Wright was going to recover.  True, life wouldn't be quite the same for him
ever again, but he had a loving wife and children and in time he might do a
little consulting work; there was nothing wrong with his needle-sharp brain
and he had been a top man at his job.  Emily told him this, over and over
again; each time she saw the worried lines deepen on his face, she trotted
out her arguments with such sincerity that after a time he began to believe
her, and when his wife, primed by Emily, joined in on Emily's side it was
obvious that he had made up his mind to have a future after all.  Perhaps not
such a lengthy one as most people, but still a future.  When the Professor
called that evening, he stayed twice as long as usual, listening to Mrs
Wright, and reading his friend's scribbled conversation.  And he added his
certainty as to the patient's ability to work again in a calm unhurried
manner which carried conviction.

Emily was tired by the end of a week.  She had been sleeping at the hospital,
working long  hours--busy ones too, and over and above that she wasn't happy
about leaving Louisa alone for so long a time.  She had managed to get home
on several afternoons, just for an hour, but Louisa had sulked and the babies
didn't seem happy.  If only the longed-for letter from Mary would come!

thought Emily, racing back to duty again.  She would miss the twins, but the
life they were leading now wasn't good enough.  They should have someone's
undivided attention.  Luckily she would have a good deal of off duty and days
off to come to her by the time Doctor Wright left, she would make it up to
them then, and Louisa too.  No wonder she had sulked, tied to the house and
the shopping and washing and only the twins for company.

Emily, carefully schooling her pleasant features into a look of relaxed ease,
presented herself at her patient's door, declaring cheerfully that in such
weather it was better to be in than out.

She had just completed all the many chores attached to her care of Doctor
Wright, ensconced his wife beside him and declared her intention of going to
supper herself when the Professor joined them.  His

"Don't go.  Nurse Seymour' left her standing, rather crossly, by the door
while he sat himself down on the end of the bed for what she could see was to
be a leisurely chat.  If he wasn't quick about it, her supper time would be
over and done with and she without  her meal--and she had agreed to stay on
duty until ten o'clock that evening so that Mrs Crewe, the night nurse, could
go to the cinema.  The canteen would be closed by then; if she wanted to of
course she could wait until the night nurses' evening meal at midnight, but
she knew she'd never stay awake.

The Professor rose presently and turned round and looked at her.

"Ah, yes.

Staff Nurse--I should like a word with you.  "

She followed him out of the room and stood in the middle of the landing.

It was quiet there.  Sister, back from her own supper, was writing the report
in her office and the two nurses left on duty were in the ward.  She was
totally surprised when the Professor said: "I have to thank you for your part
in Doctor Wright's recovery.  You have worked very well, I am grateful to you
as I am sure he and his wife are."  He smiled and she thought suddenly that
in other circumstances she might have liked him.

"I must admit," he went on smoothly, 'that when you were suggested to me I
wasn't quite sure.  "

Emily broke in: "No, I know--I heard you; you didn't like to be fobbed off
with a prim miss."  She paused and quoted: "A small plump creature who merges
into the background from whatever angle one looks at her."

The Professor was looking at her in astonishment

"Good God--yes, I said that; I'd forgotten.  Do you want me to apologise?"
He neither looked nor sounded in the least put out.

Emily eyed him thoughtfully.

"No," she said at length.

"Words don't mean a thing--you could say you were sorry and not mean it."

He shrugged.

"Just as you like, although I might point out that I'm not in the habit of
apologising unless I mean it."  He added outrageously: "You are small, you
know, and a bit plump, too."

Emily made a cross sound, but before she could say anything he went on in a
quite different voice: "I shall change the drugs this evening you are on duty
until ten o'clock, I understand?  Observe Doctor Wright carefully, will you,
and ask the night nurse to do the same.  We must start talking about speech
therapy, too."  He nodded his head carelessly.

"I'll see you later."

He left her standing there.  There were just five minutes left of her supper
break; she'd barely reach the canteen in that time, let alone get a chance to
eat anything.  In a bad humour, she went back to her patient.

"You were quick over your supper," remarked Mrs Wright.

"Wasn't it nice?"

"Professor Jurres-Romeijn was talking to me--I didn't get down to the
canteen."  And when Mrs Wright protested: "I'll go later."

It was a little after ten o'clock when the Professor came again.  He didn't
speak to her  although he gave her a close look as he came into the room.
He altered the drugs, checked that his patient was in good shape for the
night, said something quietly to him and went away, leaving Emily to give the
report to Mrs Crewe, wish her patient goodnight and gather up her cloak and
bag.

She was very hungry, but it was really too late to go out to one of the small
cafes which ringed the hospital.  Besides, it was dark and cold and the
streets weren't quiet; the pubs would be shutting.  She would have to go to
bed hungry.  The Professor was standing on the landing, staring in front of
him, doing nothing, but at her quiet step he turned round.

"I had no idea that I made you miss your supper," he observed without
preamble.

"You should have told me."

"Why?"  asked Emily baldly.

He ignored that.

"Allow me to take you out for a meal."

"No, thank you."  It was annoying that as she spoke her insides gave a
terrific rumble.

The Professor's mouth twitched.

"You're hungry."

Emily's mouth watered at the thought of food--any food.

"Not in the least," she told him haughtily.  She wished him goodnight just as
haughtily and left him standing there.

Half an hour later, coming from the bathroom on the top floor of the Nurses'
Home, where she had a temporary room on the night nurses'  corridor, she was
met by the night cook.

"There you are.  Staff," said that lady comfortably.

"I've put the tray in your room.  Night Sister said you waster 'ave it
pronto; special orders from Professor JurresRomeijn."

Emily, her hair hanging damply down her back, her face red and shiny from too
hot a bath, goggled at her.  The?  A tray?  " she asked.

"That's right, love.  And be a dear and bring it down to the canteen at
breakfast, will you?"

"Yes--yes, of course--thanks a lot, Maggie."  She sped down the passage and
into her room where there indeed was a tray laden with a teapot, milk, sugar
and a mug, soup in a covered bowl and a wedge of meat pie flanked by peas and
chips.  Emily put the tray on the bed and got in beside it and wolfed the
lot.  It was over her third cup of tea that she took time to think about the
Professor.  It had been generous of him to see that she had some supper, or
perhaps it was gratitude because he hadn't had to take her out?  All her
friends would think her out of her mind to have refused him anyway.  But he
must have taken the trouble to telephone Night Sister and speak to her about
it, and considering he didn't like her, that had been good-natured of him, to
say the least.  She would have to thank him in the morning.

But when she did just that after his visit to Doctor Wright, all he said was:
"But my dear  girl, you're wasting your gratitude; I can't afford to have
you going off sick.  I want you here for another four days."

A remark which effectively nipped in the bud any warmer feelings she might
have begun to cherish towards him.

The four days seemed unending.  She went home every afternoon, just for an
hour or so, and because it was obvious that Louisa was becoming more and more
impatient and irritable, she spent the hours there catching up on the chores
which her sister declared she had neither the time nor the inclination to do.
And the twins looked pea ky too.  She suspected that Louisa wasn't taking
them out enough, but hesitated to say so, and she would be home for four
days.  Louisa could be free to do what she liked while she set her little
house in order and took long walks with the babies.  It would make a nice
change too.

Doctor Wright was leaving the hospital the day before she herself was due for
her days off; he was going home with Mrs Crewe in attendance and it wasn't
until he was writing his last note to Emily that she discovered that he had
asked for her to go with him.  When she had given him a questioning look he
had taken the pad and scrawled: "Jurres-Romeijn wouldn't allow it; said you
were in need of a rest--made  him promise that if anything went wrong you'd
come and nurse me."

"Yes, of course," said Emily instantly, thrusting the question of what to do
with the twins on one side.

"I'll come like a shot, but you're going to be fine.  Do press on with the
oesophageal speech, won't you?"

"You're as bad as Renier, badgering me back to living again."  But he smiled
at her as he wrote, and his goodbye had been warm with gratitude.

So had Mrs Wright's, accompanied by a large box wrapped in gay paper and tied
with ribbon.  Before Emily set about clearing the room of its complicated
equipment and readying it for whoever was to occupy it next, she opened it.
Elizabeth Arden, and lashings of it; lotions and powder and perfume, soap and
several jars of face creams and a large bottle of bath essence.  Emily drew
in an excited breath; surely her mediocre looks would improve with such a
galaxy of beauty aids?  She wrapped everything up again and when she had
finally finished her work bore it carefully home.

Louisa, looking it over that evening, agreed that it was a lovely present.

"Though personally I don't go for her," she observed.

"I mean, everyone, just everyone, uses Fifth Avenue."

But Emily refused to be put out.

"I shall use the lot," she declared.

"It's bound to do something for me."

 Her young sister looked at her with affection tinged with irritation.

Emily was a dear and she had always been able to twist her round her little
finger, but she was a bit wet; it would take more than Elizabeth Arden to
change her ordinary features into anything glamorous.

"It's worth a try," she agreed.

"I say, now you're back for a day or two, I can go up to London, can't I?  I
simply must have some undies.  .."

There was really no need to go up to town.  The shops were adequate enough
for Louisa's modest wants; Emily recognised it as an excuse and agreed
without demur.  Louisa had earned some fun.  It didn't occur to her that she
had earned some fun too, but she was happy enough in the ugly little house,
cleaning and washing and taking the twins out for the long walks she had
promised.  The weather had cheered up a little too, so she took them down the
road and then pushed the pram along the bridle path, rutted and muddy, but
the woods and fields on either side, although not quite country, were
pleasant.  She marched along briskly, thinking about Doctor Wright and the
Professor.  She had heard from various friends at the hospital that he
wouldn't be there much longer and she felt a strange regret, which
considering she didn't like him, seemed strange.

Louisa, happy now that she had no need to be tied to the house all day, was
disposed to be  generous on Emily's last day.

"I'll take the twins," she offered, 'so you can go to the shops if you want
to.  "

There were one or two things Emily wanted, she accepted at once and then at
the last minute had to alter her plans because William, cutting a tooth,
became fretful and feverish.

"He'll have to stay indoors," she said, hiding disappointment.  "If you don't
mind staying with him, I'll take Claire out this afternoon."

"What about your shopping?"

"I'll do that on the way home tomorrow."

It was a cold day and grey as was to be expected in November, but there was
no wind and Emily, pushing Claire briskly in her pram, was quickly glowing.
She had taken the bridle path again, away from the streets of small prim
houses because although she never said so, she hated them.  One day if she
was lucky, she would have a small cottage in the country with a garden.
There was plenty of time, she was only twenty-three and if she got a Sister's
post soon she would start to save money.  It didn't need to be full of mod
cons, she could improve it over the years, and sometimes one could buy up a
small place fairly cheaply if it hadn't been modernised.

There was no point in dwelling on the fact that she would probably not marry.
She only met the young doctors she worked with in  hospital and none of
them had shown any interest in her to date.  It would be nice if she did, of
course.  her mind wandered off into a vague dream so that she didn't at first
hear the horse's hooves ahead of her, and when she did she merely turned the
pram towards the hedge so that there was room for the beast to pass.  She was
leaning over the pram handle, encouraging Claire to take a look at the
animal, when it trotted round the bend which had been hiding it.  It was a
very large horse, which was a good thing, for its rider was large too--the
Professor, sitting at his ease and looking, as always, elegant.  Emily, taken
by surprise, gaped.  The Professor's handsome features, however, remained
calm.  He reined in his horse, got down and said civilly: "Good afternoon.
Nurse Seymour."

She muttered a greeting, rather red in the face, and bent to inspect Claire.

"I didn't know that you were married."  He turned to smile at Emily, and the
red deepened.

"I'm not," said Emily.

His expression didn't alter, only his heavy lids drooped over his eyes so
that she had no idea what he was thinking.

"She is very like you," he observed.

"What is her name?"

"Claire."

"Charming.  You live close by?"

She jerked her head sideways.

"Yes, in one of those houses over there--the last in a row,  so it's not too
bad."  She added earnestly: "I was lucky to get it."  She went on, to make it
clear: "It's not so easy to get a house, you know--not if you're not married."

"Er--probably not.  I'm lost in admiration that you can work full time and
run a house and a baby as well."

"Well, Louisa--she's my sister, is staying with me until she can go to school
for model- ling--she's waiting for a place."

His eyes flickered over her sensible coat, Welling tons and woolly cap pulled
well down.  "She must be a pretty girl."

"Oh, she is," said Emily enthusiastically, 'and she's only just eighteen.  "

He smiled faintly.

"And you, Emily?  how old are you?"

"Twenty-three, almost twenty-four."

"And Claire?"

"Eight months."

"You moved here because of her, of course," he suggested smoothly.

Emily had her mouth open to explain and then thought better of it.  He
couldn't possibly be interested.  She frowned a little and said

"Yes' and nothing more.  And then, because he just stood there, saying
nothing, she said: " I must be getting on; it's cold for Claire if I stand
still.  "

"Of course."  He got on his horse, raised his crop in salute and rode on,
leaving her to continue her walk while she discussed the meeting with Claire,
who chuckled and crowed and didn't answer back, which was nice.  She was
almost home again when the thought crossed her mind that the Professor might
have thought Claire to be her baby.  She stopped in the middle of the
pavement, so that people hurrying past had to push against her; "But that's
absurd," said Emily, out loud.

"I'm not married."

The elderly woman squeezing past her, running over her Welling tons with one
of those beastly little carriers on wheels, paused to say: "Then you ought to
be, my girl!"

Emily delivered a telling kick at the carrier; better than nothing, for she
could think of nothing to answer back.

She went back on duty the next morning, on day duty now, but still on

ENT.

The wards were as busy as ever and Mr Spencer cheered her up by the warmth of
his welcome.  Of the Professor there was no sign; she went back home that
evening wondering what had happened to him.  She hadn't liked to ask and she
had gone late to her dinner, so that she hadn't had a chance to talk to any
of her friends.

He was there on the following morning, though, doing a round with Mr Spencer
and his house surgeon.  Sister and the speech therapist, a young woman whom
Emily envied, for she  was tall and slim and always said the right thing so
that even the Professor listened to her when she had something to say, and
smiled too.

He didn't smile at Emily, only wished her a chilly good morning and requested
a patient's notes.  On her way home later, pedalling briskly through the
crowded streets, she saw him again, driving a beautiful Jaguar XJ Spider.  It
was a silver-grey, Italian designed and probably worth a very great deal of
money.  He lifted a nonchalant hand in greeting as he slid past her which she
had to ignore; there was so much traffic about that if she had lifted a hand
from the handlebar she would certainly have fallen off.

Louisa wanted to go to the cinema, so Emily stayed home, contentedly enough
because she had had a hard day.  The little sitting room, rather bare of
furniture, yet looked cosy enough in the firelight; she sat by it and sewed
for the twins by the light of the lamp at her elbow.

There was a good programme on Radio Three and she allowed her thoughts to
idle along with Brahms and Grieg and Deli us.  They returned over and over
again to the Professor--too much so, she told herself severely; it was
pointless to get even the faintest bit interested in him when he could hardly
bear the sight of her.  Besides, with a car like that, he obviously came from
an entirely different background from her own.  She  folded her needlework
carefully, left everything ready for Louisa to make herself a hot drink when
she came in, and went to bed.

CHAPTER THREE

emily saw almost nothing of Professor JurresRomeijn during the next few days;
beyond stopping one morning to tell her that Doctor Wright was progressing
just as he should, he had nothing to say to her other than a good morning or
a good evening when he came to the ward.  For some reason she felt vaguely
discontented and miserable, perhaps because William had caught Claire's cold.
She was worried about Mary too; she had had a guarded letter saying that
they hoped to come home before very long, but it really held no news.  She
confided her worries to Louisa, who treated the matter more lightly.

"Well, they must be safe enough," she pointed out, 'otherwise Mary wouldn't
write, would she?  I expect there's some sort of delay-- you know what it
is--some form not filled in properly.  "

Emily told herself that she was fussing unnecessarily and resolved not to
worry about it.  Instead she worried about money.  They lived on a tight
budget, getting tighter every day, and sooner or later she would have to face
up to what she was going to do when Louisa left home.

53  She had suggested tentatively that Louisa might postpone the modelling
school for a month or two, to be met with such a shower of reproaches that
she hadn't said any more about it.  She had a few savings, she would have to
use them, every penny, to pay for a baby minder--if she could find one she
could trust.  Mary would pay her back when they came back to England, but it
would leave her with the nasty feeling that there was nothing to fall back on
if an emergency cropped up.

When she got home that evening Louisa met her with scarcely concealed
excitement.

"I say," she began before Emily could get her coat off, "I was out with
Tracey'--Tracey was the girl across the road with whom she sometimes went
out--'well, we were just going to cross the road when this fab car pulled up
to let us go over--a huge silver thing, Emily, you never saw anything like
it--well, there was this terrific man sitting at the wheel..."  She broke off
to exclaim: "Why didn't you tell me, Emily?"  And not waiting for an answer:
"And Tracey said that he was the visiting professor at the hospital and when
I asked her where, she said Ear, Nose and Throat Wards--you never said a
word..."

"Well, why should I?"  asked Emily reasonably.

"You're not a bit interested in hospitals or nursing.  Besides, he's twice
your age."

Louisa stared at her, her great blue eyes  narrowed.

"I like older men to think that I'm going away and all this time he was
here!"  She pouted prettily.

"Darling Emily, couldn't you arrange for me to meet him?  After all, you work
for him."

"Look, Louisa, he's hardly noticed me he says good morning and asks for
things, but that's all I mean, we're not even acquaintances."  She remembered
the meeting on the bridle path and decided to say nothing about it.

"Anyone else would have got to know him," grumbled Louisa.

"What about that special patient you had didn't he look after him?"  .

"Yes."  Emily went past her sister and put on the kettle; a cup of tea might
help matters.

"And you nursed him, didn't you?  And do you mean to say that he never spoke
to you?"

"Only to tell me to do things or ask about something to do with the patient."

Louisa tossed her head.

"You're no use at all, Emily; I believe you're scared stiff of him."

Emily considered the matter.

"No, I don't think so, why should I be?"  She warmed the pot and spooned in
the tea.

"How are the twins?  Is William better?  I'll go up and have a look in a
minute."

"They're fine.  Emily, does this doctor.  .  ."

"He's a surgeon a professor of surgery, actually."

 "Does he work at the hospital every day?  Where does he live?"

Emily sighed; Louisa looked fragile and unable to say go to a goose, but
actually she had a will of iron and the strength of whipcord.

"He comes most days, but only for rounds, when he's operating and I haven't
the faintest idea where he lives."

Louisa eyed her curiously.

"Don't you want to know?"

"No--why should I?"  She poured the tea.  "And how would I find out, for
heaven's sake?"

Her sister didn't answer and Emily, not looking at her, didn't see the
thoughtful look on her pretty face.

She was free the next day and she was surprised and touched when Louisa, over
breakfast, offered to wash up and tidy the house while she dealt with the
twins.

"And I'll wash up after lunch, too," went on Louisa, 'if you wouldn't mind
taking the twins for their walk while I nip down to Marks and Spencer's for
some tights.  "

Emily agreed; she hated washing up, and bathing and dressing the twins was
much more fun than Hoovering round the house and dusting.  The day passed
pleasantly; she was out soon after lunch, the twins tucked warmly into their
pram.  But today she decided not to go along the bridle path but into the
park.  It looked bleak under the November sky and there weren't many  people
there, but she had remembered to bring some crusts for the ducks in the pond
and they spent five minutes watching them gobble them up.  She got back home
later than she had meant to, but Louisa wasn't back; she sat the twins in
their high chairs, made their Far ex, coddled eggs and put orange juice in
their feeding cups, laid the table for their own tea presently, and sat down
between the pair of them.  She was spooning food into small alternate mouths
when she heard the key in the front door and called: "I'm in the kitchen,
we'll have tea when you've got your coat off."

The kitchen door opened with a flourish and Louisa came in and just behind
her.  Professor JurresRomeijn.

Emily paused with a spoonful of Far ex poised in front of an impatient
William's small mouth.  "Good lord," she exclaimed, 'however did you get
here?  " she added a hasty,

"Professor."

He didn't answer her at once but stood staring at the three of them sitting
on the other side of the kitchen table.  There was a gleam of amusement in
his eyes although he spoke gravely enough.

"I stand corrected," he murmured, 'but Claire is very like you, you know.  "

Emily shot him an indignant glance.

"You thought she was mine?"

"Yes."  He smiled suddenly and with charm and her own mouth lifted at the
corners.

"Twins,  I see.  .  ."  It wasn't quite a question, but she answered him as
though it was.

"Yes, my elder sister Mary's while she and her husband are abroad."

"Ah, yes, I should.  .  ."

He was interrupted by Louisa, who hadn't had a chance to utter a word so far
and was getting impatient.

"I fell down right in front of Professor Jurres-Romeijn's car, Emily, just
outside the hospital, and he brought me home and do you know, he knows the
street the flat's in.  .  ."  She paused to smile at him and Emily thought
how very pretty she was, standing there with her bright hair curling round
her flushed face, her eyes sparkling.

She asked mildly: "Did you hurt yourself?"  and popped the Far ex into
William's mouth at last.

"Only just a very little my ankle.  But it's nothing to worry about."

Claire, anxious for the rest of her tea, screwed up her face and let out a
great howl and the Professor moved round the table, picked up a spoon and
offered coddled egg.  While Claire munched, Emily said: "My goodness, that
was smart work.  Have you children of your own, Professor?"

"No, but any number of godchildren."

"He's not married," said Louisa happily, and the Professor's mouth twitched.

 "I daresay I'm a confirmed bachelor.  Does this moppet have to eat all this
gluey stuff?"

Emily ladled more food into William.

"It's Far ex and awfully good for them.  Yes, she'll eat the lot, but don't
bother, I can manage the two of them quite easily."

Louisa had taken off her coat.

"Is there a fire in the sitting room?"  she wanted to know, 'because if there
is we could have tea there?  " She smiled at the Professor.

"You'll have a cup of tea, won't you?"

He glanced at Emily, who took no notice.  "Thank you, I should like that, and
perhaps I should look at that injured ankle."

"Oh, that's almost better," said Louisa airily.  "Come into the sitting room."

"Why not here," he asked mildly, 'then we can finish feeding these two.  "

"Oh, Emily'11 see to them.  .  ."

Emily took the hint.

"Yes, of course I will.  You see to the tea, then, Louisa."

The Professor got up and accompanied Louisa out of the room and Emily,
straining her ears, could hear them laughing and talking and the tinkle of
the best tea cups and saucers being got from the cupboard.  Presently Louisa
came into the kitchen and put on the kettle and Emily started to clear up the
twins' tea.

"Can't you put them in their cots for half an hour, Emily?"

Emily had a wriggling infant under each arm.

 "No, you know I can't.  I'll have tea later."

She went upstairs and got the babies ready for bed and tucked them into their
cots.  When she went downstairs the Professor had gone.

"He asked me to say goodbye," said Louisa.  "He ate three of your scones; I
told him I'd made them."  She looked around the small, shabby room.

"This is a dump, Emily, I wonder what he thought of it.  .  ."

"Does it matter?"  Emily poured herself a cup of cool tea.

"Did you really hurt yourself, love, or did you plan the whole thing?"

Louisa giggled.

"What do you think?"  She went on excitedly: "He said he hoped I'd go out to
dinner with him one evening.  Emily, he's absolutely fab and I don't care if
he is twice my age and he's got that gorgeous car.

He said he couldn't believe that you were my sister.  "

"I don't suppose he could," observed Emily dryly.

"Did you get your tights?"

"Tights?  Oh, that was just an excuse.  I say, Emily, do you suppose he'll
take me out when I'm in London?"

"Probably, if he's there too."

"Didn't you know?"  asked Louisa.

"He's got a flat there he drives up and down each day.  He lives in Holland,
but he's over here a lot."  Her eyes narrowed.

"I bet he's rich."

Emily picked up the tray.

"Look, love, don't  get carried away; you might never see him again."

It was just as they were going up to bed that Louisa suddenly asked: "I say,
what was all that talk when we came in--all about him standing corrected and
how like you Claire was and you said something about him thinking that she
was yours..."  She gave a sudden shriek of laughter: "Emily, he thought you
were the twins' mum... oh, how could he?  I mean, you don't look like
anyone's mum, and however did he think you could work all day and look after
them as well, and run a house too?"

Then aren't very practical about such things, and anyway, I told him that I
had you to help me.  "

"When?"  Louisa frowned.

"I thought you never spoke to him."

"I met him the other afternoon and I had Claire with me in the pram, so it
was natural enough for him to think she was my baby, I suppose."

Louisa had regained her good humour.

"Oh, poor Emily, I bet you blushed!"

"I can't remember," observed Emily, remembering only too well that her face
had been like fire for minutes on end.

She spent a long time at her dressing table before she got into bed,
experimenting with Elizabeth Arden.  She had never been very good at putting
on make-up, but even with her inexpert  hand, she thought she looked a great
deal better.  She couldn't use it as lavishly when she was on duty, but there
was the hospital ball in ten days' time; no one had asked her to go yet, but
if they did, she would; she had last year's flowered crepe at the back of the
wardrobe; better still, she would use the money she had saved for a new pair
of high boots and buy a new dress, something really fashionable.  She tumbled
into bed and lay happily deciding exactly what she would buy--providing, of
course, that she got asked.

Wonder of wonders, she did get asked.  Sam my Bolt, one of the laboratory
assistants, stopped her on the way to the canteen and invited her to partner
him.  She was so surprised that for a minute she didn't say anything.  For
one thing she didn't like Sam my much; he was a longhaired, trendy type with
a reputation for chatting up the nurses, not at all her sort.  On the other
hand, it would be wonderful to have an escort.  She thanked him gravely and
he gave her the wide smile which he considered the girls fell for.

"OK, I'll meet you at the front entrance at eight o'clock."

"Yes, all right."  She added awkwardly: "Thank you for asking me.  I must go
to the canteen now, I'm late already."

And over dinner, when she told her friends,  she added: "I can't think why
he asked me..  .1 mean, me!"

Her friends were as puzzled as she was; Emily was a dear and well liked, but
hardly sexy, and Sam my was a bit of a tear away.  They wouldn't have been
puzzled if they could have heard him boasting to his particular bunch of
cronies that he had won the bet he had made with one of them; that he'd get
the staid Nurse Seymour to go to the ball with him.

"And I'll lose her the minute we get there," he promised.

"I've never won a river so fast!"

But Emily, blissfully unaware of that, worked through the rest of her day
with a tiny corner of her mind cent red on the new dress she would buy and the
impact it would have on everyone who saw it.  Something dashing and a bit
daring so that everyone would look at her twice.  And that included Professor
JurresRomeijn.

Cycling home later, she allowed the whole of her mind to centre on the
important matter of the dress and arrived with her head stuffed with a
splendid muddle of daydreams, instantly shattered by Louisa, who met her at
the door with an ecstatic: "Emily, he's taking me to the hospital
ball--Professor Jurres-Romeijn!  He said he hadn't anyone to go with and
would I like to go and I said yes--only I must have a new dress-- and sandals
and a wrap."  Her pretty mouth trembled: "I must, I must--I'll die if I
can't!"

 A little flicker of rage twisted Emily's insides and was instantly doused.

Louisa was her sister and as pretty as a picture and she deserved all the fun
she could get while she was young.  The flowered crepe would have to do it
wasn't as though anyone would notice her, thought Emily as she said in a
steady voice: "I'll see what can be done, love.  How much would it all cost?"

"I've seen a dress," Louisa was all smiles now, 'blue organza quite super.  "

"Yes, but how much?"

"Sixty pounds."  She wasn't going to tell Emily eighty because that sounded
too much.

To Emily sixty pounds was bad enough.  "You'll have to get sandals from your
allowance there are plenty of cheap ones and no one will see them under a
long dress."

Louisa looked mutinous but agreed quickly.  "Tracey will lend me that white
shawl her mother brought back from Madeira.  Oh, Emily darling, won't it be
heavenly?  I mean, he's so good-looking and I'm sure everyone will be
jealous.  .."

Emily didn't mention Sam my's invitation; it hardly seemed the right moment.
She wept a bit in bed that night; the crepe, brought from the recesses of the
wardrobe, looked limp and old- fashioned and its colour did nothing for her.
She could cry off, she supposed, but her friends would want to know why.
Before she went to  sleep, she got out of bed and took another look at the
crepe.  It was awful!

She had a free evening on the day of the ball, and because she had had a busy
day she was tired and a little peevish by the time she got home.

Louisa was having a bath and the twins were screaming their heads off in
their cots, so that Emily had to see to them first.  By the time she had
settled them again, Louisa had come downstairs, wrapped in a dressing gown,
her hair piled on top of her head.

"I had my bath early," she explained, 'so the water will be hot enough for
you sorry about the twins, they were all right when I left them.  Mrs Crewe's
coming at seven, isn't she?  She'll give them their supper.  "

"They have their supper at six o'clock," said Emily crossly.

"Really, Louisa, you might have got it ready."

"How could I?  I've got to get myself dressed, haven't I?  He's coming at
eight o'clock, and I've got my nails to do.  .  ."

Emily put on the kettle.  A cup of tea might restore her good humour.  She
wished now that Sam my was coming to fetch her instead of her having to have
a taxi back to the hospital, but at least she'd be gone before the Professor
arrived for Louisa.  She had hardly seen him during the last few days and he
hadn't said a  word to her about inviting Louisa.  But then why should he?

The tea restored her to a certain extent.  She fed the twins, left them in
their high chairs while she did her nails, washed her hair and got her things
ready before putting them into their cots and having her bath.  The water
wasn't hot--it took ages to heat up and now it was tepid, but at least it
meant that she didn't waste time over it.  In her dressing gown she did her
face carefully, putting on a little too much of everything in her efforts to
look like all the other girls, brushed her shining clean hair smooth and put
it up, then went downstairs to let Mrs Crewe in.  She spent ten minutes
showing that lady where everything was and introducing her to William and
Claire, then went away to put on her dress.

She wasn't going to be the belle of the ball, that was for certain; no amount
of pressing could conceal its faintly dowdy air.  Its round neck,
unfashionably modest, needed something to detract from it; the silver locket
on its thick chain which she had had from her grandmother years ago.  She
went to get it and frowned when it wasn't in its usual place.

Surely Louisa wouldn't have taken it to wear.  she crossed the bare little
landing and opened her sister's door.

Louisa was standing in the middle of the room.  She looked quite beautiful in
the blue organza dress, her hair falling round her shoulders in curls, her
face exquisitely made up.  In her hands she held a pair of silver sandals--
expensive ones--and on the bed was a silver kid evening bag, lying on top of
a silver gauze shawl.

"Louisa..."  began Emily, then stopped while she took it all in.

"Those sandals--they must have cost the earth--and that bag and the shawl.
Where did you get the money?

Louisa looked scared and then defiant.

"I don't see why I should have to wear cheap sandals or borrow Tracey's silly
shawl.  I bought these.  .  ."

"I can see that.  What with?"

Louisa turned to face her.

"I sold your silver locket.  .  ."

Emily's wide soft mouth opened with shock.  "My locket!  But it's mine, you
couldn't sell it!"

"Well, I did--what's the use of it to you, and I had to have the right
things.  I can't bear cheap clothes.  .  .  You grudge me everything, just
because you're not pretty, you're trying to turn me into a dull creature like
you."

Emily didn't answer.  She was hurt and bewildered and wildly angry and later,
when she felt better about it, she'd have something to say to Louisa.

"How much did that dress really cost?"  she asked quietly.

"If you must know--eighty pounds."

"And how much did you get for my locket and where did you sell it?"

 "I got eighty pounds for it, at Wether by's in the High Street."

Emily turned on her heel and went back to her room, picked up her winter coat
and went downstairs after peeping at the twins, sound asleep.

"I don't expect I'll be very late," she told Mrs Crewe.

"You sure you'll be all right?"

The older woman smiled at her.

"Of course, Emily.  You go along and enjoy yourself.  I used to love the
annual ball when I was your age."  She looked past Emily.

"Where's Louisa?  Aren't you going together?"

"Professor Jurres-Romeijn is coming for her at eight o'clock.  I'm going now
there's the taxi outside I'm meeting Sam my at the entrance."

Mrs Crewe didn't think much of Sam my, but she wasn't going to spoil Emily's
evening by saying so.

"Well, have fun, my dear.  I'll see you later."

Sam my was waiting just inside the hospital entrance and Emily took instant
exception to his pink frilled shirt and the way his long hair hung over his
collar, but neither that nor his laconic greeting were going to spoil her
evening.  She greeted him with calm friendliness and went away to take off
her coat.  The surgeons' dining room, turned into a temporary cloakroom, was
full of women and as far as Emily could see in one hasty glance round, they
were all dressed in  the height of fashion.  No one had a neckline like
hers, they all plunged wildly or had no neckline at all.  She greeted some of
her friends, peeped into the mirror and went back to the entrance.

Dancing was in full swing.  Sam my led her straight on to the dance floor,
greeting his friends as he went, and began weaving and twisting, not
bothering to see if she was following suit, but, frumpy dress and the wrong
make-up notwithstanding, Emily followed very nicely; she was a born dancer
and presently Sam my paid her the compliment of saying so.

"Though looking at you, no one would know," he assured her.

She beamed at him, her cheeks pink with pleasure and exercise, which was
unfortunate as she had applied Elizabeth Arden blusher rather too lavishly
and during the interval, after Sam my had brought her a glass of cup--the
only drink the Principal Nursing Officer would allow during the dancing--the
pink became red.

"Like it?"  asked Sam my slyly, and gave her another glassful, and the moment
she had downed it, pulled her back on to the dance floor.  The evening,
thought Emily, in a pale pink haze, was being fun after all and why had she
been worrying, anyway?  Everything was wonderful.  She began to sing to the
music and only stopped when Louisa and the Professor, caught up in the crush,
appeared alongside her.  She only paused  long enough to say

"Hullo' before she turned her back on them.

She had another glass of cup presently and then somehow Sam my disappeared,
leaving her to stand on the edge of the floor, still feeling carefree and not
very worried.  Presently she saw him with a young girl with fiery red hair
and an outrageous dress.  They passed close to her and Sam my looked at her
as though he hadn't seen her before.  She couldn't see the Professor or
Louisa and feeling conspicuous, she sat down, half hidden by a potted palm.
She felt very warm and she supposed it was the heat and the noise which made
her feel so peculiar.

The Professor had seen her, though, and kept his eyes on her while half
listening to Louisa's chat.  But suddenly he was all attention; Louisa,
convinced that she had his admiration and was enslaved by her pretty face,
was telling him about the locket.

"I think it was rather clever of me to have thought of it," she observed
smugly.  "I simply had to have some new clothes and Emily didn't give me
nearly enough money."

The Professor's voice was deceptively soft.  "Did she not?  Do tell me about
it."

The telling lasted until the dance was over, when the Professor, acting with
bland speed, introduced Louisa to Tom Spencer, excused himself with a
practised murmur and made his way to where Emily was sitting.

 She was in the act of drinking from the glass Sam my had thrust into her
hand as he went past her, the red haired girl on his arm.  She wasn't thirsty
any more, but it was something to do.  It was a bit of a surprise when it was
taken from her hand and the Professor said gently: "I shouldn't if I were
you.  It's supposed to be a harmless cup, but some joker poured several
bottles of vodka into it."  He studied her red face, looking a little strange
now by reason of the blusher competing with her own flushed cheeks.  "How
many glasses have you had?"

She stared up at him.  He looked a little woolly round the edges and she had
a strong wish to get up and dance with him whether he asked her or not.

"How many?"

"Three--and some of this one."

"God, you're half stoned," remarked the Professor edgily.  He caught her by
the hand and heaved her to her feet.

"Come along, we're going to get some black coffee into you."  He looked round
him.

"Where's that punk type you came with?"  He added strongly: "And why in
heaven's name did you come with him?"

"No one else asked me," said Emily.

He tucked her hand under his arm.

"I'm getting too old for this kind of thing," he observed.  "We'll find
somewhere quiet--you can sleep it off if you want to."

 He was walking her briskly round the edge of the ballroom, but she stopped
to look at him.  "Oh, but you can't do that--what about Louisa?"

"Louisa is quite capable of looking after herself--which is more than can
be said of you.  Come along."

She didn't feel able to do much about it; he took her through a door and down
a passage and into the consultants' sitting room.  There was no one there,
but the Professor pressed one of the wall bells and when a waiter appeared,
asked for a tray of coffee.  When it came he glanced at Emily, sitting back
untidily in a too big armchair, and poured out two cups.

"Drink that," he commanded, 'and when you've finished it, you'll drink
another.  "

She sat sipping the scalding drink and half way through said: "I've rather a
bad headache."

"The vodka.  It'll wear off."  He was sitting back in his own chair watching
her.  Presently he refilled her cup and asked: "Why are you wearing such an
unbecoming dress when Louisa is decked out in the latest fashion?  Have you
no money?"

At any other time she would have been furious at his daring to ask such a
question, but somehow it didn't matter now.

"Not enough for both of us."

"I have a sister of my own," he observed suavely, 'so I'm not entirely
ignorant of girls' clothing.  "

 "And I expect you've had lots of girlfriends," remarked Emily; the black
coffee was winning, but the vodka still had a kick in it.

"Any number.  Which leads me to observe that she is also wearing expensive
sandals--I imagine her outfit cost upwards of one hundred and fifty pounds or
so.  Surely you could both have had new dresses for that?"

"Oh, yes, of course, but Louisa had set her heart on this particular dress,
you see, and I--I didn't mind--well, not very much."

The Professor snorted.

"You're lying," he said genially, 'but since your motives are good I'll not
dig deeper.  " He smiled suddenly.

"I don't need to, anyway."

A remark which meant very little to her, although she was beginning to feel
more normal now although she had to admit to herself, not at all happy.

"Shall I find your partner for you?"  asked the Professor.

"Not that you're in any condition to dance."

She shook her head.

"No, thank you--he's dancing with a girl with red hair--she's very pretty."
Two tears overflowed and ran down her cheeks--the vodka having its final
fling.

"I'm quite all right now, thank you.  I'm sure you must want to go back to
the ballroom."

The Professor stretched out his very long legs and contemplated the black
patent pumps on the  end of them.

"No, I don't want to go back I like dancing in moderation and with the right
girl.  I'm going to take you home."

Emily sat up.

"Oh, no, you're not," she said fiercely, 'it's only eleven o'clock, I can get
a taxi.  Besides," she tossed her head,

"I'm not sure that I want to go yet."

"You're not capable of being sure of anything at the moment," observed the
Professor.

"You're going home."

He took her down back passages to find her coat, helped her on with it, then
went through a side door to where the Jag was parked.  She curled up beside
him, sniffing at the pleasant mixture of cigars and leather.

"You're very kind," she said it carefully, because the words tripped her
tongue.

"I can remember being very unkind to you, Emily."  He didn't look at her as
he drove the big car through the quiet streets.

She said in a small voice: "Oh, is that why you're taking me home now?"

"No.  Mrs Crewe is there, I understand?"

Emily nodded in the dark.

"I said I'd be back by one o'clock."

They didn't say any more but drove the short distance in silence until he
drew up outside the house, where he took her latch-key from her, opened the
door, pushed her gently into the  narrow hall and came in after her, filling
it to capacity.

"It's all right, Mrs Crewe," he called softly.  "I've brought Emily back."

Mrs Crewe put her head round the sitting room door.  She didn't make any
remarks about how early it was or what had happened, but said instantly in
her comfortable voice: "I'll put the kettle on we'll have a cup of tea."

The little room looked shabbier than ever, the worn covers of the chairs and
the elderly carpet highlighted by the bright fire.  Emily took off her coat
and sat down and the Professor sat down opposite her.

"Feeling better?"  he wanted to know.

"Yes, thank you; I've got a headache.  .  ."

"That'll be all right after a good sleep.  I'm going to help Mrs Crewe."

The kitchen was even shabbier than the dining room, its shelves filled with
cheap saucepans and a miscellanea of china.  He went and stood by Mrs Crewe,
who looked up at him questioningly.

"I'll take you home presently," he told her, 'but first a cup of tea, I
think.  "

"What went wrong.  Professor?"

"Sam my deserted her, and some fool had laced the fruit cup with vodka.

Emily's had three glasses of it.  " His fine mouth twisted a little.

"The poor kid," said Mrs Crewe warmly, 'what she puts up with is no one's
business," and added  hastily,

"Of course, it's her business--I shouldn't have said that."

"I guessed something of the sort.  Shall I carry the tray in?"

The Professor seemed in no hurry to go.  He stayed until long after midnight,
waiting with Mrs Crewe while Emily went up to her room and got ready for bed.

When she came downstairs again, her hair in a smooth curtain around her
shoulders, wrapped in a dressing gown, bought more for its practical warmth
than its glamour, he got up and leaned against the door while she and Mrs
Crewe exchanged a few parting words.  He seemed totally uninterested, his
gaze fixed on a particularly revolting picture of a clutch of dead pheasants
and a bunch of grapes which hung on the wall.

Emily, glancing up, thought that he was bored and longing to be gone; she
made short work of her good nights, thanked them both for their kindness and
saw them to the door.  But here the Professor paused.

"No, go upstairs to bed," he ordered her, 'and call out when you're in it;
it's the best place for you for the time being.  "

She couldn't but agree with him; she went upstairs meekly enough and climbed
into bed and obediently called that she was there.  Only then did he usher
Mrs Crewe out and shut the door behind him.  Emily lay for a while in the 
quiet little house, going over her evening.  It hadn't been a success;
indeed, it had been a miserable fiasco and how she would ever look the
Professor in the face again she didn't know.  And there was the question of
the locket to settle with Louisa.  Tomorrow was going to be a perfectly
beastly day.  She frowned above tight shut eyes and slept, never hearing the
Professor and Louisa coming in more than an hour later.  It might have
comforted her to have known that he did no more than open the door for her
sister, bid her a pleasant goodnight, and get back into his car.

CHAPTER FOUR

emily need not have worried; when she went on duty the next day it was to be
told by Sister that Professor Jurres-Romeijn had gone back to his own country.

Emily felt a curious sinking sensation.

"For good?"  she asked.

"No, no, some date he had with someone or other--a girl-friend, most
likely--he's not married, you know."  She glanced at Emily.

"You look a bit under the weather.  Staff--too much dancing last night, I
suppose."  She didn't wait for Emily to reply but went on briskly.

"Go and see to Mr Taylor, will you.  He's very nervous of his tube--try and
explain to him.  .

"She dismissed Emily with a nod and bent her head over her paper work once
more.

Emily hadn't seen Louisa before she left for work.  She had seen to the
twins, given them their early morning feed, eaten a hasty meal herself and
then nipped quietly into Louisa's room with her alarm clock, set for half
past eight.  The twins wouldn't sleep after that, even on full tummies, and
Louisa would probably not wake.  It was a pity, Emily thought worriedly, that
she 78  wouldn't be home until after five o'clock, Louisa would be tired
after the ball and perhaps impatient with the twins.  But she had to dismiss
any doubts from her mind and get on with her work.  The wards were full and
there would be a theatre list tomorrow; patients had to be prepared,
reassured and advised as to how they should behave after the operation.

Emily went through her day with her usual calm good sense, not allowing any
private thoughts to intrude into it.  Only as she was cycling home did she
let her mind roam.  Louisa would be cross, she felt sure.  After the
excitement of the ball, the dull routine of her day would have irked her, the
necessity of feeding and bathing the babies, taking them for a walk in their
pram, doing the household chores, would have brought on one of her bad moods.
She had had them as a child; when she found that she wasn't to have her own
way, she had sulked and cried and made life miserable for everyone, until,
very often, she had been given in to, Emily heaved such an enormous sigh that
she almost fell off her bike.  It was to be hoped that the Professor had been
so charming that Louisa was still under his influence.

Which to a certain extent was true.  Louisa, after a brief grumble about her
hard day, launched herself into an account of her evening which lasted while
Emily took off her things,  made the tea, went to see the twins, and came
downstairs again.  They shouldn't have been in their cots as early as they
were, but as Louisa explained, she was so tired herself that she had put them
there in the hope that they might sleep until their feed was due.

"And I took them out this afternoon," she said virtuously.

"Although I could hardly put one foot in front of the other."

Emily made soothing noises, poured tea and surveyed the evening ahead of her.
No washing had been done and the twins would want their six o'clock feed
very shortly; there was no sign of supper either.  She drank her tea slowly,
toasting her feet in front of the fire, then set about methodically putting
things to rights.  The washing machine was loaded, the babies' feed prepared,
and the potatoes peeled and in a saucepan before William let out a howl
followed all too quickly by Claire.  Emily nipped upstairs, changed them and
whisked them downstairs and into their high chairs.

"You do Claire, I'll see to William," she told Louisa, still lounging by the
fire.

"And it's a pity you didn't put the washing machine on a bit earlier in the
day--nothing will dry overnight."

Louisa pouted.

"What a cross old maid you're getting, Emily," she observed.

"No wonder you never get asked to dances and parties."

Which remark was so unfair that Emily could think of nothing to say to it.

But later, when the  babies were safely tucked up and the supper was
cooking, she confronted her sister.

"The locket," she said.

"You'll have to get it back, Louisa."

"How can I?  I haven't a penny--my allowance doesn't come for another week,
and I need some clothes if I'm going to London.  Really, Emily, you ought to
be glad that I was able to fit myself out so well."

"Never mind your new clothes--you'll go tomorrow and ask them to keep it
until you can fetch it."  Emily wasn't often cross, but she was now.

Louisa gave her a doubtful look and then said reluctantly: "Oh, well--all
right, though I do think you're mean."

And later, in bed Emily wondered uneasily if she was mean, perhaps she was
becoming old-maidish, even though there wasn't supposed to be any such thing
nowadays.  When Mary was home again and the twins had gone, she would give up
the horrid house they were living in, go back to London and get a job at her
old hospital, find a small flat close by and have some fun.

She was a bit vague about what sort of fun, but it involved buying some
pretty clothes and having a holiday and going to a trendy hairdresser.

She woke quite cheerful, her daydream still very much alive in her head so
that the ward  wasn't irksome at all and even Sister, in a bad temper all
day, couldn't quite destroy it.  She cycled home through the bleak evening
making rather wild plans for the future, interrupted much too frequently by
speculations as to when the Professor would return.  Why he should be so
entangled with that same future, she had no idea, only when she thought about
her new wardrobe and all the parties she would go to he seemed, quite
naturally, to be with her.

She opened the house door, still in a dreamy state, and had her euphoria
blown to smithereens at once.  Louisa poked her head round the kitchen door.

"There you are.  I've some bad news for you, Emily, and you might as well
know it at once.  The locket's sold.  It was sold as soon as the shop opened
this morning, and that silly man I asked about it wouldn't tell me who'd
bought it."

Emily stared at her unbelievingly.

"But it can't be--who could have wanted it?  Was it in the window?"

Louisa shrugged.

"How should I know?  Anyway, it's gone and there's nothing we can do about
it, is there?"  She glanced at Emily and then quickly away.

"Renier thought my outfit was lovely."

"Renier?"  Emily was brooding over her lost locket.

"The Professor, silly.  Oh, Emily, don't you  ever bother about anyone?  Did
you see him today?"

"He's in Holland."  Emily picked William up from his playpen and started to
tickle his small fat chin.

Louisa's face dropped.

"He didn't tell me.  .  ."

"Why should he?  You're a girl he took to a dance, Louisa nothing more."

Louisa's lovely eyes narrowed.

"I've every intention of being much more.

Just you wait until I've done my modelling course and got myself some decent
clothes.  " She let out a gusty sigh.

"Oh, just you wait, Emily!"

Emily was too cross to answer.  She tucked William under one arm and went
into the kitchen to put the kettle on.

She went to the jeweller's the next day, but he wasn't prepared to tell her
who it was who had bought he locket; even when she explained that it was all
a mistake, that her sister had sold it because of a misunderstanding.  The
manager was regretful but quite adamant.  Emily, a mild- tempered girl on the
whole, went home in a filthy temper, all the worse because she couldn't give
vent to it until the twins were in bed and asleep, and then Louisa, sensing
the storm which was brewing, declared that she had promised that she would go
to the cinema with Tracey and tore out of the house just as Emily was on the
point of unleashing her rage.

 It was two days later that she saw the Professor again.  She had had a
frustrating day at the hospital; nothing had gone right, the tonsils in the
Children's ward had all behaved badly, screaming and raging and being sick,
and she had become worn out with persuading them to be good and feeding them
ice cream and cuddling them when they cried.  Sister, who wasn't keen on
children, always left Emily to deal with tonsil day.

The weather was as gloomy as her mood as she got out her bike and started off
home, despite the fact that Sister had allowed her to go home early.

As she wheeled her bike through the gate she was surprised to see that there
was no light on anywhere.  She couldn't remember Louisa telling her that she
would be out as late as this with the twins, unless she had taken them out to
tea with one of her youthful friends.  Emily unlocked the back door and went
into the kitchen to find the house quiet.  There was no note and no one
answered when she called.  More puzzled than worried, she took off her
outdoor things and looked into the sitting room, but there was no one there
either perhaps Louisa had left a message in her room.  She went upstairs to
see.  Louisa's room was untidy; it always was.  Her own, in contrast, looked
bare.  Frowning now, Emily went back on to the landing.

She must have missed a note downstairs somewhere.  The  door of the twins'
little room was shut and almost without thinking, she opened it and looked
inside.  The babies were in their cots, apparently asleep.

Only they weren't asleep.  They were unconscious--out cold--their small hands
and feet icy, their pupils not reacting, their breaths so shallow she could
barely see that they were breathing.  An icy hand clutched at Emily's heart
and the wish to give way to panic was so great that she was forced to close
her eyes for a moment--long enough for her calm good sense to take over.  She
looked round the room rapidly; there might be some clue.  And there was; on
the mantelpiece there was a small bottle of Seconal.

During the next seconds her mind registered two facts: the tablets were out
of reach of the twins, and the bottle was tightly stoppered; and that Louisa
had grumbled on the previous evening because she had wanted to go to a late
afternoon fashion show at the Town Hall and Emily had told her that it
couldn't be done because she herself wouldn't be home until half past five at
the earliest.

Even while her mind was busy, so were her capable hands; taking pulses,
feeling the small bodies for the clamminess and the chill.  At least their
breathing, although far too shallow and light, was unhampered, at least for
the moment, and they hadn't been sick.  She thanked heaven  for that and at
the same time tried to think what was best to be done.  She gave them one
more anxious look and started down the stairs at a run.  She was almost at
their foot when the front door bell rang.

She was across the little hall in a flash to open it and let out a great
gusty sigh of relief when she saw who it was the Professor, his powerful
frame looming large in the poky porch.

Emily put out an urgent hand and clutched his sleeve.

"Thank heaven it's you!"  she exclaimed in a small scream.

"The twins.  .  ."

He bent his head and came through the door, closing it behind him so that in
the narrow passage they were jammed close together.  "They're ill?"

"Yes," she moved towards the stairs, 'oh, you must hurry they're up here.

.  "

He was right behind her as she galloped up the stairs and at the bedroom door
he lifted her aside with one hand and went past her to the cots.

It seemed an age before he lifted his head from examining the babies,
although it wasn't more than a minute.

"Coma," he said.

"How on earth.  .

there's no gas in the room?  "

"No.  .  .1 think they must have had..."

She didn't finish because he had already seen the little bottle for himself.

"Seconal."  He flashed her a look.

"Do you take sleeping tablets?"

 "They must go to hospital at once--my car's outside."  He began to wrap
William in a blanket and Emily went to do the same for Claire.  The Professor
glanced up briefly and she was horrified at the icy look in his eyes; his
voice was ice too.

"You've been on duty all day?"  And when she nodded: "Is this how you keep
them quiet?  Dope them?  Only this time your hand slipped..."

He pushed past her and started downstairs and Emily stood, shocked into
stillness by his words.  Her face was chalk white and she was shivering with
fright and cold, but she followed him, climbed into the car without a word,
received William's still little body on to her lap where Claire already lay,
and sat still speechless while he raced through the dull streets to the
Accident Bay, where he flung open the door, urged her to be quick and went
inside with William.  There was help immediately, of course.  The twins were
laid gently down and their small stomachs washed out while their noses and
mouths were cleared to prevent their lungs collapsing.  Half way through the
Professor turned round and saw Emily, standing like a frozen statue, just
behind him.

"Go away," he told her harshly.

She gave him a look of loathing.

"No.  I'm staying."

 And stay she did, keeping as close as she dared while the Professor, the
Casualty Officer, an anaesthetist, her friend.  Staff Nurse O"Brien and a
student nurse worked their hardest.  William recovered first and only the
Professor's large arm prevented her leaping to gather him in her arms.

His

"Stay where you are.  Nurse Seymour," was uttered in a tone of voice which
would countenance no disobedience, and common sense told her that he was
quite right.  William wasn't going to be himself for a little while yet; he
was wrapped up carefully and borne off to the Children's ward while they bent
over Claire.  She responded presently, too, but only after the Professor had
ordered an injection of Meg imide.  Emily watched her carried away to join
her brother, glanced at the Professor, giving instructions to the Casualty
Officer, and at Bema dette O"Brien and her nurse, clearing up the mess, and
edged to the door.  No one was going to stop her going to Children's and
staying until the twins were perfectly recovered.

She was actually at the door when the Professor's voice halted her.

"I

should like to speak to you," he warned her, and when she took a tentative
step backwards: " Now.  "

In a voice which no one else there could hear, he said: "Now I should like to
know more about this most regrettable happening.  How many tablets did you
give?  And have you done it before?"

 She hesitated and he added: "We will go into the entrance; we shall't be
disturbed."

So she went into the bare, short corridor which opened directly on to the
ambulance bay.  It was dark and cold and she shivered, trying to hide it.

"Now..  ."  prompted the Professor.

She hardly heard him.

"Will they be all right?"

His eyes were still cold, but his voice was kind enough.

"Oh, yes I imagine that they had only been in coma for an hour or so and
they're healthy little creatures.  They'll have to stay a few days to make
sure that they haven't got pneumonia."

She nodded, too miserable to speak, but he reiterated: "Now, if you please.
Nurse, let us have the facts."

"Well began Emily, and stopped.  He would probably not believe her if she
told him the truth; in fact, he might possibly think that she was blaming
Louisa because she wasn't there to defend herself.  Try as she could, she
couldn't think of anything plausible to say.

But she didn't need to say anything; a taxi stopped in the bay and Louisa
tumbled out and rushed into the corridor.  She saw Emily at once, but not the
Professor, who had gone to lean up against a wall.

"Emily oh, Emily Mrs Turner saw you and told me.  Oh, Emily, I never meant to
give them too much I just thought that if they had  some in their feed
they'd go to sleep and I could go to the fashion show.

I did so want to go and I didn't think it would matter, only the show lasted
longer than I thought it would and you got home early, didn't you?  "

She started to cry.  "I'm so upset, I feel quite ill."

"The twins feel quite ill too," said the Professor quietly.

Louisa turned in a flash.

"Renier I didn't know you were here, too."  She went close to him and put a
hand on his arm.

"I think I'm going to faint I can't stand being upset.  Emily will tell you,
I'm very sensitive.

.  " She smiled at him through her tears.

"Please will you take me home?"

His thick eyebrows lifted.

"I've no intention of leaving the hospital until William and Claire are
completely recovered."  He took her arm and walked her down to the bay where
the taxi was still waiting, put her inside, said something to the driver, and
watched it drive away.  Long after it had disappeared he stood there,
apparently absorbed in the dreary view of the hospital yard before him, so
that Emily started to walk away.  Perhaps he was so sick of them both that he
wanted nothing more to do with either of them.  He was beside her before she
had taken a couple of steps.  His first words startled her.

"I find it difficult to believe that you and Louisa are sisters."

 She felt lightheaded with relief because the twins were going to be all
right.  She could think of nothing else.

"Lot's of people say that we aren't a bit alike; she's so pretty."  Her voice
held no envy, rather a pride in having a lovely sister.

"I wasn't speaking of looks.  I judged you harshly, Emily, and I'm sorry.  I
hope you will forgive me I should have known better.  My only excuse is that
the sight of those two babies angered me so much."

They had stopped by the door leading to the Accident Room and even if Emily
had wanted to go through it, she wouldn't have been able to; the Professor
was blocking her way.  She looked up at him, at his rather arrogant good
looks and his blue eyes, now strangely friendly.

"That's all right," she said a little gruffly.

"I was angry too, I know how you felt."

He held out a large, beautifully kept hand and she shook it solemnly, but
when she went to withdraw it, he held it fast.

"The twins will be all right.  We'll go and have something to eat and then
you shall see them before you go home."

Emily was ravenously hungry and she had the sure feeling that if he said the
twins were going to be OK then they would be.

"I'm not dressed for going out," she pointed out.

"Nor am I," he declared blandly, a palpable falsehood, if ever there was one.

"There's a nice little pub at Cushford' Cushford was a village  a mile or so
away down a side road.  He noticed for the first time that she was wearing a
sweater and skirt; there had been no time to put on her coat.

"Borrow a coat from someone--a hospital cloak will do.  .  ."

Emily didn't like to point out that the wearing of hospital cloaks more than
five hundred yards from the hospital was forbidden and it didn't seem to
matter, anyway.  She begged Bema dette O"Brien's cloak from her and waited
while he had a final word with Mr Spencer, who had just arrived.

It was bitterly cold by now and she was grateful for the cloak as they got
into the ear.  The Professor plunged his hand into a compartment under the
dashboard and handed her a pair of gloves.

"Put those on."  His glance took in her still white face and shaking mouth.

"You'll feel much better when you've had a meal."

She thanked him and then suddenly remembered Louisa.

"Oh, I really should go home," she declared.

"I mean, poor Louisa's all alone and she's so upset."

"Not, I think, as upset as you are, Emily-- she's made of different stuff, I
fancy."  He glanced at his watch.

"We shall't be long, you know, by the time she's made herself a cup of tea
and got herself sorted out, you'll be home."

If she had been quite herself," she wouldn't  have believed him for one
minute, but she wasn't quite herself.

The pub was small and cosy with a pleasant fog of tobacco smoke and beer.

The Professor led her through a little door at the back where, surprisingly,
there was a minute restaurant, most of which was already occupied.  He sat
her down in a vacant chair and went away again to return with the pub owner,
a thin, sad-looking man who when he smiled didn't look sad at all.  He
offered Emily the menu, received the Professor's order for drinks and went
away again, whistling under his breath.

The menu was quite varied and full of such wholesome food as steak and kidney
pudding and two veg.  " roast pork and apple sauce, and T-bone steak.

"Steak and kidney for you?"  suggested the Professor, and Emily, who seldom
had the time to make one herself, agreed happily.

"And for pudding?"  urged her companion.  "The treacle tart sounds good."

Treacle tart was loaded with calories; it was all very well for the
Professor, he had a vast person to keep nourished, whereas she was already
slightly plump.  When she hesitated he said: "You've used up every scrap of
energy in the last two hours or so; you'll need to replace it, you know."

She did that with pleasure, eating every scrap  of food on her plate, as
well as drinking the sherry she was invited to drink first, and the excellent
claret which accompanied the steak and kidney pudding.

If she had stopped to think about it, she would have been surprised to find
that she felt quite at her ease with the Professor, who chatted about this
and that while stowing away a huge meal.  It was only as they were drinking
the excellent coffee that Emily said suddenly: "Oh, lord haven't we been here
a long time?  Supposing the twins.  .  ."

"Don't panic.  I left this phone number with Spencer; he would have
telephoned if he needed me."  His smile was kind.

"We'll go when you want to."

The twins were doing fine, both sleeping, a normal colour once more, their
breaths even and deep.

"No pneumonia there," the Professor assured Emily, 'but we'll keep them in
for a few days.  When do you have your next days off?  "

"At the end of the week Friday and Saturday."

"You shall take them home on Friday morning.  And now if you're ready, I'll
drop you off on my way home."

But when they reached the little house he got out too and opened the door for
her and, uninvited, followed her inside.  Louisa was in the  kitchen.  She
was wearing a new dressing gown Emily hadn't seen before, and her hair was
hanging artlessly round her shoulders.  Her pretty face was the picture of
woe and as they went in the tears began to spill out other blue eyes.

"Emily," she rushed at her sister and flung her arms round her,

"I'm so dreadfully sorry--do forgive me!  You know I'd never hurt the twins
and I didn't know the Seconal would hurt them--I mean, I only went to sleep
when I was given them because I was worried when we came here."

Emily kissed a cheek and unwound Louisa's arms gently.

"It's all right, love, the twins are fine, they'll be home in a few days."

"Louisa gave a choking sob and peeped at the Professor from under her long,
mascaraed lashes.  He was watching her with such interest that she left Emily
and went to him, putting a hand on his arm.

"Renier, you don't hate me, do you?  I know I've been a silly girl, but I'm
not clever like Emily."  She wiped a tear away with a finger and smiled
enchantingly at him.

"I hope you still want to take me out when I come to London."

"What man could resist such an invitation?"  The Professor's voice was all
silk and Emily glanced at him uncertainly.  Then her face cleared, for he was
smiling at Louisa and patting the hand on his sleeve.  Perhaps he was getting
serious about Louisa; it seemed absurd, but such  things did happen, Emily
told herself, and felt suddenly forlorn.

He went shortly after that, bidding her a casual good night and smiling again
when he looked at Louisa.  He didn't say when he was going to see her again,
though, and Emily was treated to a nasty attack of tantrums when he'd gone.

She saw the twins every day, cutting short her meal times, visiting them on
her way on and off duty, in the morning before she went on the ward, in the
evening before she went home.  They flourished, making the rapid recovery
small children and babies so often do, and never once did she see the
Professor.  He was there in the hospital because one of her friends had taken
a case to theatre and he had been operating, and she had seen his car parked
in the forecourt.  It was extraordinary that, disliking him as she did, she
should miss him.  Perhaps because the dislike was overshadowed by her
gratitude.  She was surprised that Louisa never spoke of him; she was very
quiet, and doing far more housework than she usually did, so that Emily made
no objection when she asked if she might go to the cinema with Tracey.
Emily, watching her go, thought that she had dressed rather too well for such
an ordinary outing, but Louisa was mad about clothes; perhaps she was trying
out some new ideas Louisa had told her not to stay up for her.

"I

 expect Tracey will ask me back for a cup of coffee afterwards," she pointed
out, 'and it's only just across the road."  So Emily went to bed with a book
and thought about the twins and Mary and George and started making her plans
once more.  They were rather foolish ones, perhaps, but pleasant.  It was
surprising that in a daydream one was always so pretty, so attractive to men.
She dropped off presently and didn't hear Louisa coming in much later.  The
Professor dropped her off at the door, turned the car silently and sped back
to London.

He was at the hospital the next day, though, and Emily, trotting briskly to
and fro about her many jobs, was brought to a halt by his cheerful "Good
morning.  Staff Nurse."  And since he was standing in front of her, she had
perforce to stay where she was.

She gave him a polite good morning in return and made to go on, but edging
round his vast frame was undignified, so she said: "The twins are coming home
tomorrow morning."

The Professor's eyes twinkled.

"Yes, I did know."

She blushed.

"Oh, of course, you said they could, didn't you?"

"Louisa gave you my message?"

She gazed at him with astonished eyes.

"Message?  No--how could she?"

"Easily enough."  He was staring at her hard.

 "I took her out last night."  He frowned.

"She told me that you knew I was taking her to see that new film in the West
End."  And then: "No, don't trouble to think up an answer, I can see for
myself that she didn't."  He frowned down at her.  "There was no intention of
secrecy, Emily she begged so prettily to be taken I hadn't the heart to
refuse."  The frown disappeared and he smiled.  "I didn't want to refuse,
anyway."

Emily conjured up an answering smile.

"You make me sound like an elderly aunt!  Why should I object to Louisa going
out?"  Suddenly her calm deserted her.

"And she can make what friends she likes," she said peevishly,

"I'm not in the least interested not in any of them."  She gave a small snort.

"And now, if you don't mind, Professor, I have some treatment to do."

She flounced away, her head very high, and he watched her go, a quite
different kind of smile tugging at his mouth now.

She had it out with Louisa later; once the twins were back there would be no
chance.  And for once she took no notice of Louisa's tears and cries that no
one understood her.

"You just listen to me," said Emily briskly.

"I've never stopped you going out with anyone yet, you've gone to London when
you've wanted to, you've had plenty of freedom, so there was no need for you
to lie about going out with Professor Jurres-Romeijn.  I can't think why you
did."

 Louisa had stopped crying; it was a waste of time.

"I thought you might be jealous," she said softly.

Emily stared at her across the kitchen.  The?  Jealous?  Whatever for?  "

"You always say you don't like him, but I think you're stuck on him."

"Louisa, you must be out of your mind--I don't even like him!  He's been
wonderful with the twins and he's pleasant to work for, but he's not my sort,
now is he?"

"Not really.  I mean, he's so handsome and elegant, and he must be rich, too.
He likes pretty girls, he told me so."

"All men like pretty girls," said Emily damp- eningly.

"Would you be surprised if I hooked him?"

"Yes, I would," said Emily thoughtfully.

"Oh, Louisa, don't try--he's not for you."  The Professor was the last man on
earth to allow himself to be entangled with a girl like Louisa because he was
quite aware of what she was up to, to start with.  Probably he was amusing
himself immensely, but he'd never be caught.  He would want to do his own
catching.

Louisa laughed.

"You're so hopelessly behind the times, darling."  She danced off upstairs
and left Emily to get the supper.

And the next morning, when the Professor drove her and the twins back home,
she could  find no clue as to his feelings towards Louisa.  Indeed, it
seemed to her that he treated her rather as a good-natured uncle might treat
a favourite niece, but that might be deliberate.  The twins were put in their
playpen, admired and played with, given a rusk to bite into and allowed to
crow and shout to their hearts' content while the three grownups had coffee.

Emily was almost silent, although she did her best to join in the
lighthearted conversation the other two were having.  It was a relief when
the Professor got up to go, reminding her that he had another pharyngectomy
in two days' time.

"And I shall want you to special him, Emily, just for the first two days--Mrs
Crewe will do the night duty."

On this business-like note, he took himself off and Louisa said snappily: "He
might at least have suggested another evening out--perhaps he didn't like to
in front of you."

"Very likely," said Emily.

The days fell into step once more.  The pharyngectomy was a success, the
twins throve and Louisa counted the days until she should be gone.  It was
getting towards Christmas, too, but she had shown no sign of wanting to come
back to spend it with Emily and the twins.  Emily prudently asked for a
week's holiday, as no one would want to babysit over Christmas; Sister didn't
like her not being on duty then, but when Emily explained she agreed at once,
merely  commenting that surely Louisa would want to be with her family at
such a time.

"Well, if she changes her plans, I'll let you know.  Sister," Emily promised.

She stopped on the way home that evening and bought some paper chains and
ornaments for the tree she intended to have; the twins would notice them and
so, for that matter, would she.  One made Christmas, even for two babies.

CHAPTER FIVE

louisa hardly mentioned the Professor during the next few days.  She was
sorting her clothes, preparatory to moving up to London, and Emily found her
more than usually helpful around the house.

"She's only a child still," thought Emily lovingly, watching Louisa's golden
head bent over William and his tea.  So it was a bit of a shock when the
doorbell rang later that evening and the Professor loomed in the porch.

"Is Louisa ready?"  he wanted to know.

Emily stood back so that he might pass her.

"Well, she's up in her room--I don't know.  .  ."

"Well, she doesn't have to dress up, does she?"

"I wouldn't know."  She tried to make her voice sound casual, but it came out
quite wooden.

He sat down in one of the shabby armchairs by the fire.

"You didn't know."

It was a statement, not a question.

"Louisa asked me--she left a note at the hospital--if I would mind dropping
her off at her flat as I went home as she had to meet someone there.  She
said that the someone would bring her back."

Emily perched on the chair opposite his.

102  "Oh--no, I didn't know.  I expect Louisa forgot to tell me."

A statement which Louisa, her limpid gaze on the Professor, bore out when she
came downstairs.

"I'll be back quite early," she told Emily.  "One of the girls' boyfriends is
bringing me back.  I borrowed your scarf--you don't mind, do you, darling?"

Emily saw them to the door and shut it quickly behind them, which was a pity,
for she missed Louisa's: "Such a pity we haven't had supper yet, and I'm
starving."

"I have a dinner engagement," said the Professor as he opened the car door.

And Emily, left alone, washed up the supper dishes which Louisa seemed to
have forgotten, then got out the paper chains and began to paste them
together.  She wasn't very good at it and after a little while she gave up
and just sat, doing nothing at all.

Louisa was going in three days' time.  Emily had arranged to have her two
free days then so that she could get the twins organised.  She still had to
make final arrangements with Tracey's mother, who had said that for the time
being at least she would look after the twins during the day while Emily was
at the hospital.  It was by no means an ideal arrangement and she wasn't
quite sure how she was going to afford it, but it would have to do for a
little while.  There was  a chance that one of her friends at the hospital
would move in with her, sharing the expenses of the house and looking after
the twins when she wasn't there, but that had to be worked out.  It would
mean getting their off-duty arranged so that they were never off at the same
time, but at least it meant that for four days of the week when they each had
their two days free the babies would be looked after.

Emily closed her eyes.  Life, just lately, had become difficult and there
seemed no point in it, somehow.  The front door bell sounded softly and she
got up to answer it.  It was too soon for Louisa, but it must be someone who
knew her and that the twins would be asleep.

Mary and George were standing side by side in the porch.  Emily blinked, gave
a little choking laugh and flung herself at Mary.

"Oh, my dears,"

she gasped, 'if only you knew how wonderful it is to see you!  Come in, do.  "

They all went into the sitting room and stood looking at each other until
Emily burst out: "How did you get here?  Oh, it's such a lovely
surprise--couldn't you let me know?  Are you back for good?  Would you..."

George flung a brotherly arm round her shoulders.

"Hey, hang on--one question at a time!  But first, how are the twins?"

"Upstairs and asleep and fighting fit."  She  looked at Mary.

"Would you like to see them first, before we talk?"

Mary nodded, and they all crept upstairs to stand round each cot, staring
down at first William and then Claire.  When they were downstairs again Mary
said: "It must have been pretty grim for you, darling.  Where's Louisa?"

Emily was draping coats and scarves over chairs.

"She's up in London for the evening-- she's moving to a flat with three other
girls, in three days' time."

"And how were you going to manage?"  George I wanted to know.

"Well, I've almost fixed up with one of the nurses at the hospital to move in
here with me and help me look after the twins, only it takes time to get the
off-duty right, so a lady across the road had promised to have them while I
worked, just for a few days--I've got a holiday over Christmas."

Mary was looking round her.

"Darling, you've had a dreadful time!  Of course there hasn't been enough
money, has there?  And this crummy little house..  ."  She crossed the room
and put her arms round Emily.

"You're a dear girl and we shall't forget it.  We thought, when you wrote and
said you'd moved here, that everything was all right--you never said..  but
then you never do.  Well, that's over now.  George is to work at the
Birmingham Head Office and they've  offered us a house in the country close
by--a kind of reward for poor George getting caught up in all that mess.
We'll tell you about that later.  So you'll be free to go back to London, my
dear."

Emily smiled.  A bit of her daydream was going to come true, anyway, and she
could start making plans now in good earnest.

"We've not liked it much here, but it was healthier for the twins--there are
some quite nice walks..."

"Have we had supper?"  asked George.

"Oh, I'll put the kettle on at once," cried Emily.

"I'm so sorry.  Will tea do and--and toasted cheese?"

George got up.  He was a nice-looking man and very calm and leisurely in his
manner.

"Fish and chips," he declared.

"Just tell me where to get them, and a bottle of something from the pub."  He
was already at the door.

"Get out the knives and forks and a corkscrew, I'll be with you in no time."

When he'd gone Emily asked: "Was it awful, Mary?  Not getting letters from
you--only that funny one saying you were delayed..  ."

"Well, it wasn't very pleasant, but you know George, my dear, he never loses
his head and he knew that if he just sat tight someone would give way
somewhere.  His Head Office smoothed things over finally and we got back this
afternoon.  We had to leave a good deal behind and  there won't be anyone
going in his place, but we're home again.  I worried about the twins, of
course, but I knew they'd be safe with you."

Emily built up the fire and wondered if now was the time to tell Mary about
the overdose, then decided that it wasn't.  For one thing Louisa wasn't there
and it savoured of sneaking behind her back, and for another, Mary and Louisa
didn't get on very well.

"You'll spend the night, of course.  There's no spare room, but I'll make up
my bed and sleep with Louisa.  I've a day off tomorrow, isn't it lucky?"

"Lovely we've a lot to talk about and to do.  I hope the twins remember us.

And we won't stay here, darling, you've enough on your plate as it is.

There's an hotel here, close by, isn't there?  We'll sleep there and come
round directly after breakfast, then I can bath and dress the babies and take
them off your hands.  "

George came back with the food then and a bottle of wine tucked under one
arm, and no one talked seriously after that.  They were still sitting round
the table when Louisa came back.  She must have seen that the lights were
still on for they could hear her, while she was still in the hall,
complaining that there was no need for Emily to wait up.

"I'm not a child," she declared as she flung open the door, to stand with her
pretty mouth open.

"Mary George, what's happened?  How did  you get here?  Oh, how lovely, now
you can have the twins.  It's been such hard work..."

Mary went over to give her a rather perfunctory kiss on the cheek.

"Who for?"  she asked.

"I can guess who did the lion's share of the work.  I hear you're taking
yourself off to London."

Louisa went to embrace George without answering at once.

"Well," she declared after a minute,

"I have my future to think of, and when I'm a famous model you won't talk
like that to me!"

Mary didn't answer her, and Emily began to talk about something else.  Her
two sisters had never got on very well and to quarrel on their first evening
together for months would be too awful.  She plunged into plans for the next
few days and Louisa presently drifted away to her bed; no one was
particularly interested in her flat, not just at that time, and she was
really only happy when the attention was cent red upon herself.  The hazards
Mary and George had passed through left her cold.

But not Emily.  She listened, enthralled, while George, in his calm voice,
recounted the happenings of the last few months.

"And glad we are to be home again," he finished.

It was after midnight when they left, with the promise that they would be
back early in the morning.  Emily went to bed happier than she had been for
months.  The mantle of care she had  been wearing had slipped from her
shoulders and much though she loved the twins, she would be free to lead her
own life once again.  She slept like a log and was up early to see to the
twins and eat her breakfast.  Of Louisa there was no sign and when she went
into her sister's room with a cup of tea, Louisa only grunted and turned over.

Mary was getting ready to bath the twins and Emily was washing up when the
door bell was pealed with vigour.

"That'll be George," said Mary, and went to the door.

She came back after a few moments, looking puzzled and amused.

"There's a man at the door," she' observed.

"He's enormous and very good- looking, and he says he's come to see the
twins."

Emily blushed and hated herself for it.

"He's a surgeon at the hospital at least, he's a professor.  He he knows the
twins.  .  ."  She wiped a cup with care and went on: "There's something I
haven't told you, Mary, but I suppose Louisa should do it, but then you'll be
angry.  .."

"If someone doesn't tell me something soon I shall be very angry!  What's the
mystery, love?"  Mary gave Emily a quick glance and went back into the hall,
to reappear a moment later with the Professor at her heels.

Emily introduced them, acknowledged the Professor's bland good morning with a
brisk nod  and waited for someone to say something.

"I feel in my bones that the twins have been ill," said Mary, eyeing the
Professor.

"Perhaps you'll tell me about it."

"Certainly, Mrs Brooks, but I think, as Emily suggests, Louisa should be here
too."

Emily went to the bottom of the stairs and called her sister.  It was a very
small house, with thin walls, so Louisa must know by now who was downstairs.
Apparently she did, for presently she joined them in the kitchen, wearing the
new dressing gown and with her hair arranged just so.  She had got her
make-up on too, Emily noticed.

She smiled at them all, a wistful smile which her two sisters had seen on
many occasions, and ignored now, and strangely enough, so did the Professor.

"Your sister must be told about the twins," he observed in what Emily
described to herself as a family doctor voice.

"Emily and I both think that you should do the telling."

Louisa tossed her head.

"Of all the stupid fusses about nothing!"  She pouted prettily at him.

"I thought we'd all forgotten about it-- after all, they're none the worse."

"They could have died," stated the Professor flatly.

"And if someone doesn't tell me at once what  all this is about, I shall
scream," said Mary.  "What did you do, Louisa?"

"There, you see?"  cried Louisa, and went to stand by the Professor, as
though he would protect her from heaven knew what.

"I'm accused of something no one knows anything about!"

She waited, but since no one spoke she went on sulkily.

"Oh, all right, I gave the twins something to make them sleep while I went to
a dress show and it was too big a dose."  Her voice rose.  "Well, how was I
to know?

They'd been crying all the morning, and I was fed up.  "

Mary had gone quite white.

"And what happened?  No, not you, Louisa, I suppose you were safely out of
the house."  She looked at Emily.

"I found them when I got home; I was just going to telephone the hospital
when Professor Jurres-Romeijn came to see Louisa.  He took them--us--to
hospital in his car and they were perfectly all right after they'd been
treated.  They stayed in for three days and the Professor looked after them."
She added: "He's very clever."

The Professor's mouth twitched although he remained silent, leaning against
the kitchen table with his hands in his pockets.  It was left for Emily to
say: "You don't have to worry, Mary, they're absolutely fit again."

Mary said slowly: "Thanks to you and Professor..  .  I've forgotten your
name--but no thanks to Louisa.  I won't forgive you, Louisa."

 Louisa took refuge in another burst of tears and this time it was the
Professor who said: "If you want to go into town, I'll wait and give you a
lift, Louisa, but be quick."

She stopped crying at once, flashed a triumphant look at her sisters, and
disappeared upstairs.

When her bedroom door closed Mary asked: "You think I'm being hard on her.
Professor?"

He shook his head.

"No, I think you have shown remarkable restraint.  May I take a look at
William and Claire now I'm here?  And perhaps when your husband is free, we
might all three have a chat."

She gave him a thoughtful look.

"Yes, of course, I'd like that--so would George."  She smiled suddenly.

"I'll just pop upstairs and get them ready--will you come up or shall I bring
them down?"

"I'll come up."

When she had gone Emily said: "Thank you, Professor," and he nodded
understanding.  She was thanking him for offering Louisa a lift; her young
sister's ego had been sadly mauled and he had given it a boost again.

Perhaps he was annoyed at the way Mary had spoken to Louisa; if he had fallen
in love with her, he wouldn't like her to be upset, even if Mary had been
justified.  Emily pondered that as she hung the tea towels to dry.

 He didn't answer her, only nodded again carelessly and went upstairs to
where Mary was waiting for him.  He came down presently, remarking that the
twins were as fit as they could possibly be and that doubtless he would be
seeing her before long, and refusing the cup of coffee she offered to make,
collected an impatient Louisa and went.

"He's nice," observed Mary, coming downstairs again.

"Knows how to handle children, too.  Do you work for him all the time?"

"No--he has some cases on the ward, though, and I special led one of them for
him."

"So how did Louisa get to know him?"

Emily was standing by the stove, watching the kettle boil.

"She fell down in front of his car."

"Don't tell me--she hurt her ankle, so he brought her home.  .  ."

"How did you know?"

"Emily darling, it's one of the oldest tricks in the world, though I don't
fancy that he fell for it--probably it amused him at the time."

"He fancies her."

"Who wouldn't?  She's very pretty."  Mary went to stand by Emily and threw an
arm round her shoulders.

"You've had a rotten time," she said warmly, 'although you'll never admit it.
Well, George is going to pay you back every penny of what we must owe you
and if you feel like it we'd love you to come and stay with us--  unless you
want to go back to London at once.  "

"Well, it's sweet of you both, but I'd love to get back to London--I've two
weeks' holiday due, so I only need to stay here another two weeks.  I ought
to be able to get a job by then and I can live in until I have the time to
find a bed-sitter or perhaps share a flat."

"But that's almost Christmas!"  Mary protested.

"It's a whole month till then.  May I come and stay with you in the New Year,
as soon as I can get a week's holiday?  I shall miss the twins."

She made the coffee and put the pot on the table with two mugs.

"You won't miss being at this hospital, then?"

"No, not really, I've made some friends, but I've not had much chance to go
out."

George came in then and presently the twins woke up from their morning nap
and Emily, leaving the little family together, dressed carefully and took a
bus to the hospital.  Day off or no day off, she was going to hand in her
notice.

It was easier than she had expected it to be.  The Principal Nursing Officer
was understanding when it had all been explained to her; she would be able to
leave in just two weeks' time.  Emily went back through the wide, modern
corridors to the entrance, telling herself that she should feel on top of her
world, and yet somehow she didn't want to go.  She couldn't think  why.  At
least not until she came out into the entrance hall and saw the Professor
standing there, talking to Mr Spencer.  He was standing half turned away from
her, his grey head bent thoughtfully as he listened to his companion, and at
the sight of him, large and elegant and remote, she knew why she didn't want
to go away.  She wouldn't see him any more if she did, not that she had ever
seen a great deal of him, but even a glimpse each day would be better than
never.  .  .  And how like me, thought Emily on a soundless sigh, to fall in
love with someone I'm never going to see again, and who's never taken any
notice of me at all.  .  .

The Professor turned his head and looked at her.  There was no expression on
his face, but he said something to Mr Spencer and walked across the entrance
hall to her.

"You look excited, has someone just offered you a Sister's post or have you
come up on the pools?  Is it not your day off?"

She hadn't told him that, but perhaps Louisa had.  She said, carefully not
meeting his eye: "Neither.  I've just given in my notice."

She didn't see the sudden lift of his eyebrows and his voice was as casual as
before.

"Going back to London now that your sister is back?"

"Yes."  For the life of her she couldn't think of anything more to say.

"It's more than that," he said slowly.

"You  look as though someone had lighted a torch inside you."

Her eyes flew to his face and her own reddened.

"No," she managed, and meant "Yes--you."

"Going home?"  he wanted to know.

"I'll drop you off."

"Oh--well that's very kind of you, but I..  ."

He interrupted her.

"Emily, what have I done?"

"Done?  Nothing, it's just that it's good for me to walk."

He glanced out of the glass doors.

"In blinding rain and a howling gale?

How did you come?  "

"On the bus."

He turned her round and fell into step beside her.

"I should like to meet your sister's husband," he observed as he opened the
Jag's door and popped her in.

So there was nothing to do for it but invite him in when they reached the
house, to find George and Mary and the twins all together in the sitting
room.  Mary smiled at them as they went in.

"There you are--did you give in your notice, darling?  And when can you
leave?  Have you telephoned for an interview at your old hospital?"  She got
up.

"Professor JurresRomeijn, do sit down--this is George, my husband.  Darling,
the Professor saved the twins' lives."

"I think you will have to include a number of  other people in that
statement."  The Professor smiled back at her and shook George's hand and
Mary repeated: "Well, darling, you haven't answered any of my questions."

Emily hadn't wanted to, not in front of the Professor, but there was no way
out.

"Yes--and I can leave in two weeks, because of my holidays, you know, and I
haven't telephoned yet.  I haven't had time..."

She cast off her hat and coat, said: "I'll make some more coffee," and went
away to the kitchen.  It was ridiculous; this might be her last chance of
seeing the Professor outside the hospital and here she was running away.  She
filled the kettle and thumped it down on the stove and lighted the gas,
feeling bad temper and frustration and misery inexorably mixed together
inside her.

The Professor had Claire on his knee when she returned to the sitting room,
while William perched on his father's lap.  Mary was sitting back, doing
nothing and looking pleased with herself.

"When is Louisa coming back?"  she asked idly.

"Is she out for lunch?"

The Professor's quiet: "Yes, she's having it with me," sent Emily's heart,
already in the depths, plunging just as far as it would go.  But she schooled
her face to polite interest, no more, as she handed round the coffee.

"It'll be very  quiet here without her," she observed to the room in general.

Mary shot her a glance.

"You'll want all your time to pack up and settle the house.  Will you put the
furniture in store?  George will see to that for you."

"Well, yes I'd better, until I find somewhere to live."

"And get a job?"  questioned the Professor softly.

"Yes."

The Professor fixed her with a compelling eye.

"By some extraordinary coincidence I had a letter from Doctor Wright this
morning; he has already accepted an invitation for him and Mrs Wright to
spend Christmas with me at my home in Holland and he asked me if there was
any chance of you being free to accompany him.  Mrs Wright is nervous of him
travelling..

do you by any chance drive?  "

Emily's voice came out in a surprised squeak.  "Yes, I do."

"Splendid Mrs Wright doesn't like the idea of driving so far and Doctor
Wright isn't quite up to a long journey, although he potters locally, I
believe."  He smiled persuasively.

"A couple of weeks of your time, Emily?

A change would do them both good they've been through a good deal.  "

 "I haven't driven a car for ages--and I don't know Holland."

"I could arrange for someone to take you out on one or two runs easily
enough, and Holland is a good deal easier than England--no hills, wide roads,
short distances between towns."

Emily didn't reply.  It seemed like a miracle that she would actually be with
the Professor at his home.  Things didn't happen like that in real life;
there must be a snag.  Perhaps she would be expected to stay at some nearby
hotel.  "I should be delighted to have you as my guest," said the Professor
with uncanny insight.

"Well..  ."  She looked at Mary and found her smiling and nodding and George,
as usual, looked calmly complacent; nothing ever disturbed George.

"You go, darling," urged Mary, 'it'll make a nice change from the twins and
give you time to decide about the next job.  " She added cunningly: " George
could get on to finding you a flat while you're away.  "

"But I haven't even written to the hospital yet.  .  ."

"Do it today, then, and if there isn't a vacancy you can try somewhere else."

"Of course, if you don't care to do it," murmured the Professor,

"I'll let Doctor Wright knew.  Unfortunately I shall't be able to come over
and fetch them."  The Professor's voice,  quiet and deep and unhurried,
managed to sound accusing, nonetheless.

There was a silence until he spoke again: "Perhaps you have a reason for
refusing?"

Of course she had a reason, thought Emily crossly, and a fine thing it would
be if she bleated out that she wanted to go, but having to see someone one
loved each and every day for a fortnight was rather more than one could hope
to stomach.

"Emily, you're being a twit," said Mary roundly.

"You know you want to go--such a nice change from all those hospital wards
and the babies."

"Very well," said Emily, and watched the Professor's face relax.

"You'll be late for lunch," she reminded him, 'and Louisa hates being kept
waiting.  "

For a fleeting moment he looked frighteningly ferocious.

"I seldom forget dates with pretty girls," he told her silkily, and at the
door: "I'll let you know details very shortly."

Mary, coming back from showing him out, glanced at Emily quickly.

"One would imagine, seeing you two together, that you don't like each other;
that's absurd, of course."

"Why is it absurd?"  Emily was busily collecting coffee cups and loading them
on to a tray.  But Mary didn't answer.

The following day George and Mary and the  twins went; Emily saw them off
with mixed feelings; she was going to miss the twins dreadfully but it would
be wonderful to be on her own.  They had made her promise to go and stay with
them just as soon as she could, and George had given her a nice fat cheque,
waving aside her protests with an airy: "You've earned it, old girl; it was
the one thing that made life bearable, you know; we didn't have to worry
about them because we knew you were looking after them."  He gave her a hefty
pat on the shoulder.

"Now go and rig yourself out and have a splendid Christmas.  And remember
you're coming to us just as soon as you can.  I'll look out for a flat for
you--there's someone I know in town who'll help there.  Give me enough notice
and I'll get your furniture out of storage before you get back."

The house seemed quiet and cold when they'd gone.  Louisa had gone up to
London again, taking some of her things with her; tomorrow she would be gone
too.  Emily, who was on duty at two o'clock, made herself a sketchy lunch and
went to fetch her bike.  She would have liked to have made arrangements to
get the furniture collected and stored, but until she heard from the
Professor, there was nothing she could do about that.

She'd start packing up tomorrow, she decided as she climbed the staircase,
and then didn't give it another thought; Sister was going  off duty for the
rest of the day and there was the report to listen to and then a surprising
message from the Office to say that she was to report for night duty on the
following day.  That meant that she would have to go on duty at eight o'clock
in the morning and work until after lunch and then go on duty in the evening.
Half way through the afternoon it struck her that she wasn't likely to see
the Professor; he did his rounds during the day.  She caught her breath at
the thought of not seeing him, she had been counting on that even though she
knew it was pointless and hopeless.

It was going to be bad enough actually being in his house and seeing him
every day for a fortnight--it would be heaven too.

There was no sign of him during the afternoon and his car wasn't in the
forecourt when she went off duty at eight o'clock that evening.

She went home feeling worried.  Supposing he had changed his mind and didn't
want her to go to Holland after all?  She was still worrying as she went into
the house, to find Louisa there, drying her hair in front of the fire.

"Oh, hullo, you're back," said Emily unnecessarily.

"Mary and George and the twins went this morning just after you'd gone.  It's
been funny without them."

Louisa mumbled something and Emily asked, turning the knife in the wound:
"Did  you have a nice lunch yesterday?"

"Lunch?  Oh, yes--Renier's a smasher when it comes to going out.  Jack
brought me back this afternoon..."

"Do I know him?"  asked Emily cautiously, and set about frying eggs and
bacon.  She was famished and there was no sign of any supper.

"No--he's Ann's brother.  Ann's one of the girls at the flat.  He's
absolutely fab!"

"I thought you liked older men?"

Louisa peered at her through her wet hair.  "Oh, they're all right for a free
meal, but Jack's more fun--not that you'd know."

Emily cracked an egg into the pan.

"I thought you were a bit gone on Professor JurresRomeijn."

"Well, he's rather gorgeous and he's rich, but I'm never quite sure what he's
thinking."  She went back to to welling her hair.

"I haven't had supper yet, will you do me an egg?  I thought I'd go in the
morning.  Jack's coming for me."

"All right, love.  I'll be at the hospital, I'm to go on night duty tomorrow."

"Again?  Lord, what a life you do lead!  Are you going to stay here or go to
Mary's?"

Emily thought it prudent not to mention her trip to Holland; after all, she
hadn't heard any more about it.

"I'm going to store the furniture and get a job in London--I think my old
hospital might give me a post again."

 Louisa wasn't very interested.  She began to talk about the model school
and the fun she was going to have.

"And heaven knows I deserve it," she declared, 'life's been so dull here.  I
can't wait to get to London.  We must meet sometimes when you've found
yourself somewhere to live.  I won't ask you to the flat, I don't think you'd
like the girls much--I mean, they're younger than you and two of them are
models already.  " She got up and went to look at herself in the mirror over
the fireplace.

"I haven't paid you any housekeeping for last month, have I?  I can't spare
it, Emily, I simply had to have some shoes I saw--they're black patent and I
really need them."

Emily fished around in her handbag.

"That reminds me, here's something towards them."  Two five-pound notes, all
she had until she went to the bank and cashed George's cheque.  Louisa took
them with a careless: "Oh, thanks--I can always use bread."  She turned round
from her inspection.

"Well, I'm off to bed, you've no idea how tired I am."

And Emily, on her busy feet since early afternoon, had a very good idea.

She was tired herself, but the supper things had to be cleared away and
breakfast put ready.

"See you in the morning before I go?"  she asked.

"For heaven's sake, don't wake me at that ghastly hour!  Let's say 'bye now."

 Emily let herself out of the house in the early morning into a dark cold
street.  She had half hoped that Louisa might have got up to see her again,
but there had been no sign.  There was no sign of the Professor either, so
she went home again at two o'clock wondering what was best to do.  But there
was a good deal to do and she had the rest of the day in which to do it.  She
cleared Louisa's room, cleaned the house, had a meal and a bath and went back
to the hospital.  The evening was even worse than the morning had been.  She
thought longingly of her bed and hoped the night would be a quiet one.

As it happened it wasn't too bad; there had been no operation cases that day
and none of the patients were dangerously ill.  All the same, she was kept
occupied, answering bells, repacking dressings, giving drinks and bedpans,
propping two cases for theatre in the morning.  She was glad that she had a
good junior nurse on with her, inexperienced but sensible; it was her first
night too, but she was willing and anxious to do the right thing, and she had
a sense of humour, something one needed with several elderly ladies all
convinced that they were dying and demanding attention.

If every night is going to be like that one, thought Emily, dragging tired
feet down the staircase, it won't be too bad.  She put a hand up to her cap
and tweaked it straight.  She had  lost a pin but she couldn't be bothered
to do anything about it now something she regretted as she reached the ground
floor and found the Professor at the bottom watching her.

"You look the worse for wear," he told her briskly, and although her heart
had taken a great happy leap at the sight of him, she said quite crossly:
"Well, I've been on duty all night and I'm very tired."

"And cross."

"And cross."  She glowered at him because he looked so elegant and
well-rested and she, who would have given the world to have impressed him,
looked like something the cat had brought in.

"I've a letter for you from Doctor Wright, you can read it later.  You leave
on the twelfth of December, don't you?"  And when she nodded: "Good.  You're
to go to Doctor Wright's home on the morning of the fifteenth and drive them
over to Holland.  When are your nights off?"

Emily made her tired mind work.

"Three nights from tonight."

"There'll be a man with a car from Dent's Garage outside your house at three
o'clock in the afternoon on your first free day and on the s two succeeding
days.  Is that all right?"  :) She gave him a bewildered look and he said |
patiently: "You're to drive around a bit and get |  used to it again.  Now
go home to bed, you're not fit for anything else."

She turned away, wanting to burst into tears for no other reason than that
she looked a mess and he had no patience with her.  She hadn't taken two
steps before he'd caught her by the arm and turned her round to face him.

"You poor small creature," he said gently, "I've no right to talk to you like
that--I'm sorry.  Tell me, where will you go when you leave here?"

She blinked.

"I don't know.  I hadn't thought about it because I didn't know, did I?"  She
wasn't accusing him, only stating a fact.

"Louisa?"

"No--no, there wouldn't be room, besides..."  She stopped and finished:
"She'll be so busy.  I'll find an hotel."

"I've friends living close to me; they'll be glad to put you up.  I'll take
you up to town when you leave."

"Oh, but I couldn't..  ."

"Don't be a silly goose.  Now go home to bed."

Emily went, already half asleep and a bit muddled in the head as a
consequence but content because she was going to Holland.  That was a fact,
and what was more, the Professor seemed to have arranged things very nicely
for her.  She  wondered what his friends would be like, and was she supposed
to pay for bed and breakfast?  She was pondering this when she fell asleep.

CHAPTER SIX

the days and nights flew by and it was lucky that the nights weren't too bad,
for there was a good deal to do before she went to bed each morning.

She had arranged for a warehouse to store the furniture and they were to come
for it on the day before she was due to leave and although that was still ten
days away, there was a good deal of packing up to be done.  And Mary
telephoned most days to give her news of the twins and recount how well they
were settling in.  There had been a phone call from Louisa, too, an excited
hasty conversation in which Emily couldn't get a word in edgeways.  Life was
fun, said Louisa, and she loved the model school although it was hard work
and some of the girls were incredibly mean to each other.

"Not that I care," said Louisa airily, 'it's a competitive profession.  Oh,
Emily, you can't think what you've missed, wasting your time in a hospital.  "

Emily forbore from the obvious comment that she was hardly model material.

"I'm quite happy," she pointed out.

"Shall I see you some time?"

But Louisa was vague about that.  Not before 129  wondered what his friends
would be like, and was she supposed to pay for bed and breakfast?  She was
pondering this when she fell asleep.

CHAPTER SIX

the days and nights flew by and it was lucky that the nights weren't too bad,
for there was a good deal to do before she went to bed each morning.

She had arranged for a warehouse to store the furniture and they were to come
for it on the day before she was due to leave and although that was still ten
days away, there was a good deal of packing up to be done.  And Mary
telephoned most days to give her news of the twins and recount how well they
were settling in.  There had been a phone call from Louisa, too, an excited
hasty conversation in which Emily couldn't get a word in edgeways.  Life was
fun, said Louisa, and she loved the model school although it was hard work
and some of the girls were incredibly mean to each other.

"Not that I care," said Louisa airily, 'it's a competitive profession.  Oh,
Emily, you can't think what you've missed, wasting your time in a hospital.  "

Emily forbore from the obvious comment that she was hardly model material.

"I'm quite happy," she pointed out.

"Shall I see you some time?"

But Louisa was vague about that.  Not before 129  Christmas, and certainly
not at Christmas; she had so many parties lined up.  .

"In the New Year, then, love," said Emily.

"I'll let you know my address when I've got one."

Afterwards she remembered that Louisa hadn't asked her how she was managing
or how she was going to move house or whether she had a job to go to.

"Oh, well, as long as she's happy," said Emily to the room at large.

She saw nothing of the Professor, although she went a little early each
evening and lingered in the morning in the hope of meeting him.  He had
disappeared into thin air, it seemed, and she started her nights off feeling
let down.  The house looked strangely empty when she reached it, most of the
books and ornaments had been packed now and she had polished the furniture in
the sitting room and stacked it neatly and shut the door on it, which left
the kitchen to live in.  She cooked herself some breakfast, then remembered
that she was to take a car out that afternoon, so that she gobbled the meal,
cleared away like lightning, had a bath and went to bed with the alarm clock
set for midday.  It meant only three hours' sleep, but she would be able to
go to bed and sleep the clock round that evening.

She was dressed and ready when the car arrived, driven by a sober-looking
middle-aged man who greeted her civilly enough, opened the door for her and
moved into the other seat.  The  car was a rather elderly Rover and before
she could say anything the man said: "This is the model you will be driving,
miss."  He sat back, his arms folded across his chest, and she realised that
she was to take over without any more ado.  She was nervous, scared stiff in
fact, but after all, she had got her driving licence.  She started the engine
and quaking inwardly set the car going.  For the first few hundred yards she
was in a panic that she would do something stupid, but then quite suddenly
she felt all right; there wasn't too much traffic around and her feet and
hands seemed to be doing all the right things.  "Where to?"  she asked.

"Turn left at the next crossroads, miss, and go through Brook mans Park and
up as far as Hat field, then go round the town and across to St Albans and
back down the A6."

She found herself enjoying it presently and although she made one or two
mistakes, they were small ones, and since her companion merely grunted gently
she concluded that she wasn't doing so badly.  She drew up finally with real
reluctance before her little house and was elated when her companion
pronounced that she was quite competent to drive the car anywhere she might
want to go.

"I'll be here tomorrow, same time," he warned her.

"We'll spend an hour on the motorway and then find a quiet road so I can see
you reverse and turn."

 And that went off successfully too.  Emily returned to night duty feeling
rather pleased with herself; she was to have one more outing, driving her
taciturn companion as far as London's heart and back home again.  The other
day she was going to spend shopping; she had George's cheque and she hadn't
had any new clothes for a long time.

She had had a letter from Doctor Wright, too, a friendly missive saying how
glad he and his wife were that she would accompany them to Holland, "Because
we wouldn't have gone on our own," he had finished.

She had tried to come to terms with herself over the Professor too.  She
would have to see a good deal of him, she supposed, and although that would
be a delight for her, she would have to be careful not to let him see that.
She thought about him a great deal although she didn't see him, and carefully
veiled enquiries as to his whereabouts drew blanks.  It wasn't until her next
nights off that she asked Mr Bennett from the garage if she should pay him
for the use of the car and got more news of the Professor than she had
expected.

"Not a farthing, miss--Professor JunesRomeijn settled the bill before he
went.  Back in Holland he is now and not expecting to come back for a few
days.  One of his partners is ill, so he had to go and take over for a bit.

A very  nice gentleman, if I might say so--not a bit like some foreigners.  "

Emily did her last four nights duty in something of a panic.  If the
Professor had returned to his home for a sudden emergency, might he not quite
easily forget that he had said that he would drive her up to town?

Supposing he didn't come?  Should she ring Doctor Wright, or just turn up at
his house on the day that had been arranged?  She would have to find a small
hotel for a couple of nights.  Instead of spending a glorious day shopping
she should have been better employed looking for a modest bed and breakfast
somewhere.  Not that she regretted her day at the shops; she had had a
wonderful time with just for once enough money to buy what she wanted; a
tweed coat in a flattering shade of green, a jersey dress to wear with it, a
well cut skirt and several sweaters and blouses, a velvet skirt from Marks
and Spencer teamed with a beautifully cut top she had seen in Liberty's.  She
bought another blouse or two to wear with it because she couldn't afford
several evening dresses--besides, she might not need them.  And she spent
more than she had intended on shoes.  She hadn't had such lovely shoes for
years.  .  and boots, knee-high and very soft leather.  There was enough for
gloves and a handbag and a little felt pillbox hat before common sense told
her to call a halt.  On her last day,  before she went on duty for the last
time, she packed her case, saw the furniture out of the house and went to
work.  There had been no message from the Professor and by now she had
stopped worrying; she would go to town and make her own arrangements until
she was due to go to Doctor Wright's.  Several of her friends had given her
the names of small hotels where she would be able to get a room and she could
fill in her days easily enough.  Shops and museums, she told herself vaguely.

She had breakfast at the hospital in the morning, said goodbye to her friends
and went home for the last time to the empty little house.  It was a cold
morning and the man was coming to cut off the gas presently.  She made a cup
of tea and had a bath and dressed in the new clothes, wasting a lot of time
over her face and hair before going downstairs with her case.

The man from the gas had been, so had someone from the Electricity
Department.  She locked up carefully, inspected each empty room in turn and
picked up her case.  She would catch a bus from the end of the street and go
to the Underground; it was still quite early and she had all day to look for
an hotel.  She opened her bag to make sure that the list she had made out was
there, just as the door bell rang.

She rushed to the door unaware of the delight showing so plainly on her face
as she opened it  to find the Professor, huge in his car coat, standing on
the step.

"Oh, you came," she exclaimed stupidly, and then remembered to take the smile
off her face and just look polite.  On no account must he ever even guess at
her feelings, and he was looking at her now with lifted brows and a faint
smile which she couldn't understand at all.  She added, still very polite:
"I'm just ready."

He went past her into the narrow hall.

"I imagine that you're glad to leave."

"Yes, I am."  She saw his glance taking in the emptiness and the shabby walls.

"They took the furniture yesterday."

"You sold it?"

She felt shocked.

"Oh, no--it's all I have.  I'll furnish a flat or a bed sitter when I get one."

He didn't answer and she hadn't expected him to; it could hardly interest
him--where she was going to live next.

"You've not been to bed?  You were on duty last night?"

She nodded.

"You shall go to bed as soon as we reach my friends.  Come along, then, if
you're quite ready."  He took her case and put it in the boot and opened the
car door for her after she had banged the door after her.  The key she had
already returned to Tracey's mother, who was going to let the house agents
have it later.

She was very tired and the comfort of the car  lulled her into a half-waking
state which left her head quite empty of ideas for a light conversation.  But
apparently that didn't matter much; the Professor seemed little inclined to
talk and the journey was a short one.  Pulling herself together as they slid
into the West End traffic, Emily was uneasy to see where they were.  This was
a part of London she hadn't seen much of; tall Regency houses in quiet
squares with small gardens in their cent res, but perhaps they were taking a
short cut.

They weren't.  The Professor drew up before such a house in the centre of a
terrace, got out, opened her door and helped her out too and crossed the
pavement to ring a large brass bell beside a soberly painted front door.

It was opened by a hall porter, who at the Professor's bidding collected her
case and led the way to the back of a well appointed hall to the lift.

"I don't like lifts," muttered Emily, and hung back a little.

Unlike anyone else, who would certainly have asked her why not, the Professor
merely signed to the porter to use the lift for himself, and guided her to
the stairs.

"It's the top floor," he informed her.

"Oh--well, you need not have walked up-- it's only me being silly.  I was
stuck in a hospital lift once, I had an unconscious patient on a drip with
me, and the drip went wrong.  The porter  couldn't help and it seemed all
day before we got out..."

"An unpleasant experience.  And don't give a thought to me; I may be over my
first youth, but I can still climb stairs."

She blushed and wishing to make some amusing reply, found her head empty
again.

The landing on the top floor was as richly carpeted as the stairs and the
front door of the flat was a handsome one.  It opened as they reached it and
a small dark girl and a rather stocky man a good deal older than she both
spoke at once.  "Come in, Renier--and this is Emily.  .  ."

She was shaken by the hand and led inside and the Professor disappeared with
her case down a long passage.

"A drink," cried the dark girl.

"Renier hasn't had a chance to introduce us-- I'm Dolly and this is
Peter--we've known him for ever, you know.  Sit down, Renier said you'd be
tired, so you shall go to bed presently..  it's lovely having you.  Peter,
take Emily's coat."  She turned round as the Professor came into the room.

"We're going to have a glass of Madeira and an early lunch, then Emily can
take a nap."

"Then for heaven's sake give her a biscuit with it, I don't expect she had
much breakfast.  Did you, Emily?"

They all looked at her, Peter and Dolly with a warm sympathy, the Professor
with a gentle mockery.  She told them no, she hadn't really,  and obediently
ate the biscuits offered with her drink.  She was very afraid that she would
go to sleep in the warm, charmingly furnished room; her companions' voices
came and went in her sleepy ears until the Professor's remark that he must be
off brought her wide awake.

"I've a couple of cases," he explained, 'but I'll be clear this evening.  Why
not dine with me?  " His eyes flickered over Emily's dress.

"Pot luck, and don't change," he added.

"Lovely."  It was Dolly who answered for them all.

"We never see enough of you."  She leaned up and kissed his cheek and Peter
said: "So long, lad," which struck Emily as quite inappropriate--the
Professor didn't look a bit like a lad.

He was looking at her poker faced now.

"Since we're all saying goodbye so nicely..."  he said, and crossed the room,
plucked her out' of her chair, kissed her soundly, set her down again and
went away.

The other two looked so unsurprised that Emily came to the conclusion that he
was in the habit of kissing girls goodbye, only of course, not in hospital.
She tried to look as though she was unsurprised too and she must have
succeeded quite well, for Dolly started to talk about something or other
which didn't need an answer and presently an elderly woman came to the door
and told them that lunch was ready.

 The food was delicious and Emily was hungry, but a full stomach on top of
being up all night made her so very sleepy that she almost dozed off over
coffee.

"Bed for you," said Dolly briskly.

"I'll call you at teatime you just get into your bed and sleep until then."

Which Emily did, barely noticing the pretty bedroom, but the bed was sheer
heaven, warm and soft and smelling faintly of lavender.  She was asleep
within seconds.

She was wakened four hours later by Dolly's cheerful voice and the pleasant
clatter of a tea tray.

"We let you sleep," she said comfortably.

"And now eat everything up before you dress there's a shower room through
that door, by the way; you've heaps of time before we go to Renter's."

Emily sat up and eyed the buttered crumpets hungrily.

"I ought not to I'm too fat..."

"Rubbish, you're just right, men hate skinny girls."

"Emily drank some tea.

"Does he live far away?"

"Renier?"  Dolly smiled.

"On the next floor, ducky, though he's only there when he's in England his
home is in Holland."

Emily licked a buttery finger.

"Oh, well I did know that he lived there, but you see we're we're not..
that's to say I don't know  him well, I've only worked on a case for him.

Dolly strolled over to the window and stood looking out into the wintry
evening.

"You'll see quite a lot of him while you're in Holland, won't you?"

"Yes," agreed Emily seriously, 'but it's not like being friends, is it?

He's a professor and all that.  .  " She felt she wasn't explaining very
well, but Dolly seemed to understand.

"He's like anyone else only nicer.  Most girls { can't wait to get at him,"

she said lightly.  | "Oh, I'm sure of that, for he's very nice- I looking,
only sometimes he looks as though he's laughing at one.  I--I think I should
tell you that he thinks I'm a prim miss and p-plump, so you can see we're not
friends; I'm going to Holland because Doctor Wright needs someone to drive
the car and keep an eye on him."

"You don't like Renier?"  Dolly sounded sympathetic.

Emily choked on a small sugared cake.

"He's a very good surgeon," she said, though it cost her a lot not to say
more, and Dolly, who still had her back to her, frowned a little.

"Well, let's hope you get to know him better.  He told us all about the
twins, you know."

"Did he?  And about Louisa, too, I expect?  My young sister--she's very
pretty--he took her out; she's going to be a model."

Dolly came back and sat down on the side of  the bed.

"Is she?  I'd rather be you, any day."

By the time it was ready to go to the Professor's flat, Emily felt wide
awake.  She had done her face and hair with care and the jersey dress looked
quite nice; it was a relief to see that Dolly was wearing the same dress she
had had on all day.  They walked down the stairs and Peter rang the bell.
The door was opened by an elderly man with a stern face who wished them good
evening and begged them to enter in a dampening sort of voice instantly
nullified by the Professor's shout from an open door at the end of the hall.
He appeared a moment later and ushered them into a large room very
comfortably furnished with a great many big armchairs, a handsome bow-fronted
cabinet, rows of bookshelves spilling books all nicely highlighted by the
blazing fire in the stone hearth, and presently when they were all sitting
round it, he enquired of Emily if she had slept and soon they were all
engrossed in the map he had produced for her to see.

"I've marked the route for you," he explained, 'and the Wrights know the way,
but you'll have to be careful in Rotterdam and again when you get to Utrecht.
" He looked across at Peter.

"Remember when you two went on a grand tour of the Netherlands because you
took the wrong turning?  Not that Emily's likely to do that, she's too
sensible."  He took her glass and refilled it, and she began to feel quite
happy  and not scared stiff as she had expected.  How silly to love someone
you don't know anything about, she thought, watching him pouring drinks for
the other two; if only he'd laugh and joke with me like he did, with Louisa.

But that, it seemed, was wishful thinking.  Presently they went in to dinner,
announced by the severe man, who surprisingly allowed himself to smile when
Dolly asked how his wife did.

"Thank you, madam, she's very well indeed; she hopes you will enjoy the brown
bread ice cream, she remembered that you have a partiality for it."

"Mrs Willy remembers everything," observed their host.

"Willy, will you fetch up a bottle of champagne?  It's the only thing to
drink on an occasion--and this is one."

Dolly and Peter smiled as though they understood him, but Emily, who didn't,
looked puzzled.  No one explained what the occasion was, though, and she
forgot all about it in the pleasure of eating Mrs Willy's scallops.  They had
rib of beef next which the Professor carved with a neatness only to be
expected of him, and then, as a concession to the ladies, lemon sorbet,
served in a frozen lemon cup and accompanied by little silver dishes piled
high with whipped cream.

"Any time you don't want the Willy's," declared Dolly,

"I'll have them off you."

 "One of my oldest friends," declared the Professor to Willy, 'and she wants
to snatch my cook!  "

Peter chuckled: "Well, you could easily bring that Bep from Holland whenever
you come."

"Then who would look after this place while I'm away?"  He glanced at Emily,
who hadn't much to say for herself.

"Shall we go into the sitting room for coffee?  What are you all doing
tomorrow?"  He looked at her as he spoke so that she felt bound to make some
sort of a reply.

She improvised hastily.

"Oh, I wanted to go along to Fen wick's and there's an exhibition at the
National Gallery I wanted to see."

"I don't know about Fen wick's," he told her, 'but I should like to see the
exhibition.  I'm free tomorrow; I'll fetch you after breakfast.  "

She gazed at him with a transparent horror which set the corners of his fine
mouth quivering.

"It's very kind of you.  Professor, but I couldn't think of taking up your
time..."

He waved away her excuses.

"I don't leave for Holland until the evening; I shall be delighted."

"You go," encouraged Dolly kindly.

"Personally I can only bear exhibitions if Peter's with me."

Emily had to say yes after that, and presently they said goodnight and she
accompanied her kind new friends back to their flat and after half an hour's
desultory talk, went to bed.  She had  meant to lie in bed and worry about
spending the morning with the Professor, but she went to sleep at once.

As she got into his car the next morning, she wondered where on earth he was
going to park.  It wasn't until he was in Brook Street preparatory to turning
into New Bond Street that she mumbled: "I don't really want to go to Fen
wick's--it was all I could think of..  ."

The Professor gave a great rumble of laughter.  "I wondered if you meant it.
And what about the exhibition?  Did you think that up on the spur of the
moment, too?"

"There isn't.  Let's go to the Tower and look at the Crown Jewels, instead."

They spent a delightful morning.  Emily forgot about being shy, she forgot
too that her companion was probably just being kind and filling in an odd
hour or so of his free time.  She gazed with awe at the Regalia, stared at
the Yeoman Warders, peered into dungeons and shuddered over the block, ably
seconded by her companion, who seemed to be enjoying himself as much as she
was.  She was surprised when he reminded her that it was almost one o'clock
and what about lunch.

"I'd forgotten--oh, dear, and I didn't ask Dolly what time she wanted me
back."

"I told her you'd be lunching with me."

They drove back the way they had come while  she wondered where they would
go.  When he stopped outside the Con naught Hotel's dignified entrance, she
exclaimed: "Not here?  I'm not in the right clothes..."

He turned to look her slowly over.

"The clothes seem just right to me, Emily."  He smiled at her and her heart,
which she had thought she had well guarded against foolish ideas, flipped
over and left her without breath.

"Besides, I can park the car here.  .  ."

A reasoning which was undeniable.

And once inside she forgot about her clothes and her probably shiny nose; it
was grand and elegant, but the Restaurant Manager who showed them to a table
was attentive and knew the Professor well enough to address him by name.
Emily sipped a glass of sherry and worked her way through a menu which left
nothing to be desired.  She took so long that her companion suggested in an
amused voice: "How about smoked salmon to start with, duckling to follow and
a bottle of claret to go with it?"

He was an easy person to be with, she had discovered that.  Right at the back
of her head was the unwelcome memory of his conversation with Mr Spencer, but
she slammed a lid on it for the moment.  Under his gentle conversation she
blossomed, and by the time they had reached the sherry trifle she had
forgotten everything but the delight of the moment.

 It was while they were drinking their coffee that he suggested that she
might like to accompany him to Liberty's and help him choose a gift for his
grandmother.

"Like you, I have no parents, Emily--a brother and a sister and my
grandmother, a very tart old lady whom we all adore."

"But I don't know her tastes," began Emily, her eyes shining at the idea of
another hour or two in his company.

"I thought if we walked round we might see something."

They decided on a frivolous chintz-covered cushion, beribboned and
lace-edged, smelling delightfully of the lavender and rose leaves with which
it was stuffed and by then, having wasted a great deal of time in almost
every department, it was teatime.  The Professor took her to the Ritz this
time, where they ate cucumber sandwiches, buttery muffins and tiny, sugary
cakes.

"When do you have to go?"  asked Emily as she poured second cups.

"Oh, about half past six--seven o'clock."

"But it's five o'clock now--you'll never be ready."

"Willy will have everything waiting for me; I only have to throw my case into
the boot.  I've enjoyed my day, Emily."

She looked at him across the table and just as though he were speaking out
loud she heard his  voice telling Mr Spencer: "Am I to be fobbed off with
that prim miss..  .?"

She went red and then a little pale, unable to take her eyes from his
thoughtful stare.

"I've enjoyed it too," she told him in a quiet voice devoid of expression,
and then, terrified that he would think her even more prim than he supposed,
plunged into small talk.  It lasted her until they reached his flat again and
she fell thankfully silent as they went upstairs together.  In a minute they
would say goodbye, although she reminded herself she would be seeing him
again in a few days, but it might not be the same; he would be in his home
with guests and his family around him and probably they wouldn't be alone
together at all.  She stopped outside his door and held out a hand.  "Thank
you for my day.

Professor.  "

He took the hand and kept a tight hold of it.  "I'm hoping to pluck up
sufficient courage to ask you to call me Renier," he told her, half laughing.

"Each time you address me as Professor I age a year, but I do have enough
courage for this."  He bent and kissed her on her surprised mouth and then
straightened up to ring the bell.  Dolly came to the door, said hullo to
Emily, offered a cheek for his goodbye kiss, wished him a pleasant journey
and ushered Emily inside.  It was all done so quickly that Emily had no time
to say anything.  Thinking about it afterwards, she concluded that she had 
had nothing to say anyway.  Social kissing was quite the done thing, she was
aware of that, but she found it hard to forget that the Professor was someone
she worked for and someone, moreover, who thought nothing of going to a place
like the Ritz for his tea.  What he must have thought of that wretched little
house she shuddered to think.

It seemed very lonely without him, although |?  Dolly and Peter were kindness
itself, taking her out on the remaining two days, and she and Dolly spent the
last morning shopping while Peter was at his office.  Emily didn't buy
anything; she still had some money left over from her salary and George's
cheque, but she wasn't sure if she would need to spend it in Holland.  But
Dolly made up for them both, trying on dresses for the parties they were
bound to attend at Christmas.  They arrived back happily tired and after
dinner Emily telephoned Louisa to say goodbye.

Louisa wasn't in, the girl who answered the telephone told her; she was
spending the evening at the theatre with friends, so Emily could do no more
than leave a message and hope that she would get it.  Before she went to bed
that night she wrote to Louisa, to tell her that she would let her have her
address once she was in Holland.  She wrote to Mary too, saying the same
thing and apologising for being so foolish as not to  have found out just
exactly where she was going.  Being in love was making her addle-pated!

Peter insisted on driving her to Doctor Wright's house in the morning and
when she protested, told her that Renier had asked him to do so: "Though I'll
make haste to say that I should have done it anyway."

He bade her a friendly goodbye, just as Dolly had done, refusing to wait and
meet Doctor Wright with the excuse that he had to get some work done before
lunch, and drove away as soon as he saw the door of the doctor's house open.
It was a pleasant Victorian residence, very solid, with a small garden and
screened by shrubs and trees, and inside it was more than comfortable, albeit
a little gloomy by reason of the narrow sash windows.

Emily was touched and surprised at the welcome she received from the doctor
and his wife and a little alarmed to see that her erstwhile patient wasn't
looking very well.  He declared that he was feeling splendid, though, and
looking forward to his visit.

"We've been before, several times," he explained.

"I suppose Renier gave you a map and told you how to get there?"

They spent the next half hour poring over it and arranging their journey.

They were to go on the night ferry from Harwich, but the doctor declared that
he didn't want to be rushed; they would leave with plenty of time to spare;
they  could always go on board early.  Which pleased Emily, feeling a touch
of last-minute nerves at the idea of driving so far and on a strange route.

"It's a piece of cake," declared Doctor Wright, and beamed at her when she
congratulated him on the way he had mastered his speech in such a short time.

"Not bad, eh?"  he asked, delighted with himself.

"I shall start thinking of going back to work after Christmas."

He rested after lunch while Emily and Mrs Wright gossiped in the sitting room
and presently, after tea, Emily fetched the car from the garage, helped the
elderly maid to put the luggage in the boot, settled her two passengers
comfortably, and with her fingers metaphorically crossed, drove carefully out
of the short drive and set the Rover's nose Harwich-wards.

CHAPTER SEVEN

the first part of the journey went very well.  Emily, once she had recovered
from her initial fright, found that she wasn't scared at all.

She wove her way through London's traffic and drove smoothly towards
Colchester and Harwich.  The car went well.  Doctor Wright seemed comfortable
enough in the back with his wife beside him and there was plenty of time.
They embarked without waste of time and went straight to their cabins, and
before they parted for the night Emily, feeling that it was expected of her,
checked the doctor's pulse, made sure that he was comfortable and arranged
for a light meal to be brought to them.  The doctor was tired and when he was
tired, his speech, never easy, became almost impossible to understand; she
could see that he would be grateful to go to bed.

Mrs Wright sat next to her when they disembarked at the Hock and Emily
discovered quickly enough that she wouldn't have liked it otherwise; she
could concentrate on her driving, leaving it to her companion to direct her.
Rotterdam was a nightmare and once or twice she felt like taking her hands
off the wheel and 151  screaming, but Mrs Wright was a calm person.  She
remained un flustered, even when they took a wrong turning, and rather later
than sooner they found themselves on Rotterdam's outskirts, on the motorway
to Utrecht and safe in the knowledge that they could stay on it until they
reached the roundabout on the outskirts of that city.

They had landed early in the morning and even though Emily had had to slow up
in Rotterdam, it was still only mid-morning.  She slowed, obedient to Mrs
Wright's instructions, at the roundabout, and turned on to the Amsterdam
motorway, then turned again presently, this time into a side road which would
take them to Breukelen.  They crossed the river here, to take a narrow
country lane, running beside the river and empty of traffic.  As Mrs Wright
explained, the road on the opposite side was used for that; it went all the
way to Weesp, near Amsterdam, hugging the river Vecht all the way, but not as
closely as the road they were now travelling on.

Emily would dearly have loved to have stopped and looked around her.  She
hadn't seen much yet; Rotterdam she never wanted to see again, not if she had
to drive through it, and the motor ways, although splendid, hardly afforded
opportunities to look at the view.  But here it was different.

Breukelen was small and quaint and as they went along she caught glimpses of
 charming old houses set amidst green lawns sweeping down to the river's
edge, and even, now in winter, with the frost still on the ground, it all
looked beautiful.  She was wondering where exactly the Professor lived when
Mrs Wright said: "Turn left, dear, and in through the gates."

The gates, wrought iron and wide open between stone pillars, led on to a
sanded drive, curving through shrubs and trees, bare now, but thick enough to
hide the house from view.  It came into sight round the next bend, a solid,
white-painted square mansion, its front door approached by wide steps, its
enormous windows twinkling in the pale sun.  The drive ended in a wide sweep
and then continued round the side of the house, where Emily glimpsed
outbuildings.  It rather took her breath; the Professor's London flat had
seemed the height of luxury to her, but it was entirely overshadowed by this
dignified edifice.

"Well," said Emily in a surprised voice,

"I didn't expect this.  It's--it's like a stately home!"

Doctor Wright grinned at her.  He was looking almost his old self now that
the journey was over and Mrs Wright gave her a grateful little smile.

"Well, here we are, dear, and how wonderfully you drove.  When I think that
we might not have been able to come but for you..."  She broke off because
the front door had opened and the Professor was running down the steps
towards  them.  He greeted them with warmth, kissing Mrs Wright on a cheek,
shaking the doctor by the hand and then turning to Emily, whom he neither
kissed nor shook hands with; all she received was a placid: "Well, it wasn't
too bad, was it?  And you had Mrs Wright to map-read for you."

He was standing with his hands in his pockets, staring at her, frowning a
little, and she felt suddenly dejected and wishful that she hadn't come.

Surely he could have smiled?

"It was a very pleasant trip," she told him coolly.

"Doctor Wright's a little tired, though."

He nodded carelessly before turning away to walk with his friend back up the
steps into the house.  Emily, following with Mrs Wright, was still wondering
why he seemed vaguely annoyed at the sight of her, when they reached the
vestibule and went inside.

She hadn't known what to expect and she found it beautiful; panelled walls
and thin silk rugs on the black and white marble floor and a staircase rising
at the end of the hall, its branches turning left and right to reach the
gallery running round the hall.  There was a man waiting by the door, a
round, elderly person with a jolly face, the very antithesis of the man in
the London flat.  The Professor introduced him as Hans to Emily, after the
Wrights had greeted him like an old friend, then led the way through the
double doors Hans had opened into a lofty room with two  great windows at
one end and a carved fireplace of great splendour.  Here they were welcomed
by a brindled bull terrier and a large dog with a shaggy coat and a long
feathery tail, witness to a variety of ancestors.

It pleased Emily to see a small nondescript cat curled up in one of the
handsome velvet-covered armchairs which were arranged around the room; it
gave its stateliness a homely look.  She felt a little overcome by the
unexpectedness of it all and the Professor's politely cool greeting had left
her uncertain; perhaps he was regretting the arrangement already.  In her
mind's eye she reviewed her wardrobe and wondered if it would quite live up
to its surroundings.  She sat down on an enormous button-backed sofa and
watched Hans disappearing with the coats.  Presumably they were to drink
their coffee and pass the time of day before being shown to their rooms.
Coffee, she hoped, would revive her.

It did, but only in part.  The Professor did the rest by coming to sit near
her presently and enquire after the journey.  He seemed so interested that
she quite enjoyed telling him about it, and presently the talk became general
until their host said: "I thought we'd have lunch on our own today; there are
one or two people coming in for drinks this evening, so we'll dine a little
later than usual."  He included them all in his smile.

"I expect you would like to go to your  rooms--Bep shall take you up.  Maud,
you've got your usual room and I've put Emily just across the passage within
call."

Bep, it appeared, was Hans' wife, a very large, stout woman with a red
cheerful face who without speaking a word of English nonetheless conveyed her
pleasure at their coming as she swept up the staircase with Mrs Wright while
Doctor Wright and Emily followed at a more leisurely pace.

The gallery on to which they emerged was, if anything, rather more
magnificent than the hall below.  The walls were white wood here, and the
ceiling was painted; cherubs, scantily draped ladies on what Emily took to be
clouds, and a great many wreaths of flowers, the whole gathered up, as it
were, into one glorious crowd encircling the domed ceiling above the hall.
She was so busy craning her neck to see it ^ all that Doctor Wright had to
tap her on the arm to remind her that Bep had sailed away from the gallery
and was negotiating a corridor leading to the back of the house.

Their rooms were at the end, their doors one each side of a narrow window
looking out on to the wintry formal garden laid out below.  Emily waited
until the Wrights had gone into their room and then, invited by the smiling
housekeeper, went into her own.  That too had a window, a large one this
time, with the same view, and was furnished  with great good taste with
simple mahogany pieces; a canopied bed, draped in white muslin, a sofa table
with a gilded triple mirror in the window, a great tallboy and a small
writing desk and chair.  There was a small fire burning in the marble grate
which to Emily seemed the height of luxury, and drawn up to it, an armchair
with a table beside it.  She was still gaping at it all when Bep crossed the
room to open a door and disclose a small bathroom.  Emily stood surveying its
pink tiles and mirrors, the piles of pastel towels, the jar of matching
soaps, quite bereft of words.  If only Louisa were here to see it all!
Emily, catching sight of her ordinary person in one of the mirrors, felt that
she didn't quite match her surroundings.  Bep went away and Emily went to her
case on the chest against the wall and opened it.  Someone had unpacked for
her; she opened the second door and found that it was a clothes closet, her
few things hanging forlorn at one end.  She remembered that there were people
coming in for drinks and wondered what she should wear.  She would have to
ask Mrs Wright.

That good lady, as though she had heard Emily's unspoken thoughts, knocked
and came in, expressed delight at the room, examined the view from the window
and suggested that they went downstairs as soon as they were ready.

"What do we wear tonight?"  demanded Emily  worriedly.

"I'm afraid I haven't enough clothes with me..  ."

She flung open the closet door and Mrs Wright's kind eye took in the skirt
and blouses.  "How sensible to bring a skirt and several tops," she declared
bracingly.

"I've done that too.  We'll wear them this evening, dear--Renier always has a
house full for drinks, you know."  She went on carefully: "I believe we're
going in to Utrecht tomorrow morning; you and I could slip away and have a
look round.  And Emily, no one has thought to tell you, but of course, you're
getting a salary while you're here..."

Emily turned a shocked face to her companion's.

"Oh, I couldn't!  I've not done anything.  .  ."

"You drove us here and if Reg wants anything done you'll be doing it, my
dear--and I must confess not to have to worry about him at night will be a
relief.  Not that you'll need to stay awake, or anything like that, but
sometimes if he can't sleep, he gets up and roams around, so I'm afraid to go
to sleep..."

It was a relief to Emily that she was going to be of some use, after all.

"Look, I'll ask the Professor to have a bell fixed up, then if Doctor Wright
wants anything, I can see to it, so you can sleep soundly."

"That would be lovely, Emily.  Now, tomorrow, how about treating yourself to
some thing really glamorous for Christmas night?  Renier has the family to
dinner and it's quite an occasion.  I thought I'd look round for myself, too."

"Oh, well, if you're going to... I've brought some money with me and I do
need another dress, don't I?"  Emily looked in the mirror and combed her tidy
head even tidier.

"I didn't know about presents...?"

"Ah, yes, we'll see if we can find a few things.  ..  Renter's got
everything, which makes it very difficult.  Just a small something, dear it's
nice to exchange little gifts on Christmas morning, isn't it?"

In bed, hours later, Emily went over her day.  It had been delightful,
although she had had her misgivings about that to begin with.  But lunch had
been a very pleasant meal, enlivened by the presence of the Professor's
grandmother, a diminutive, rather plump old lady who told Emily in precise
careful English that she was eighty-one years old and unlike the young people
of today, she enjoyed life to the full.  She had eyed Emily sternly and then
relaxed with a sharp: "Not that you look like one of these modern girls, with
their ugly trousers and unkempt hair."

She smiled suddenly.

"What do you think of Renier?"

It had been a little hard to answer that because her host was sitting at the
head of the table, not  quite out of earshot.  Emily recalled with shame
that she had blushed, although she had replied sedately that he was an
excellent surgeon.

Unexpectedly, he had come to her aid with: "And Emily is an excellent nurse.
Grandmother," to which the old lady had replied: "Well, I think every girl
should be taught to do something useful before she marries."

Emily wriggled in her comfortable bed at the memory of his bland: "Are you
planning to get married, Emily?"

They had spent the afternoon looking round the house in a leisurely fashion,
although half way through Doctor Wright had decided that he would like a
rest.  So she had accompanied him up to his room, seen him comfortably
settled on the chaise-longue before the fire, laid a coverlet over his legs,
arranged a table with anything he might require upon it, and then gone
downstairs again, but when she reached the big garden room at the back where
they had all been, she saw that the Professor and Mrs Wright were so deep in
conversation that they didn't even see her, so she had gone to the sitting
room and picked up a magazine and while she leafed through it wondered what
they were talking about.  Doctor Wright, presumably.

She had worn the long skirt and the pale pink crepe blouse with the ruffles
for the evening, and reflected now that it had been most suitable.

 True, a number of the ladies who had come to visit Renier were very
handsomely dressed and most of them had beautiful jewellery, but she had felt
satisfied in a modest way that she hadn't looked too bad.  At least old
Mevrouw JurresRomeijn had complimented her in somewhat outspoken terms, on
her suitable appearance.  It was a pity that the Professor hadn't had a word
to say to her other than the usual polite nothings a host utters to his
guests.  But tomorrow was another day, she told herself, and went to sleep on
the thought.

And a very nice day it was, too.  The Professor wasn't at breakfast, and
Doctor Wright had elected to have his in his room, so she and Mrs Wright
spent an agreeable time discussing their shopping.

"And you know," said Mrs Wright happily,

Regis so much better; knowing you were close by and the bell under his hand,
he told me he'd slept all night, and I believe he did.  "

They drove into Utrecht in the Jag, with Emily sitting beside the Professor
making polite conversation, because to sit in silence was really too much.

"This is a very comfortable car," she observed, and didn't see the little
smile, instantly suppressed.

"Very," he agreed gravely, and since he didn't seem disposed to say any more
she tried again.

"Do you prefer a large carEr yes--you see, I'm a large person, Emily.

 I have a Lagonda VI 2 though, a 1940 model; it's a two-seater drop head
coupe--it's been restored, of course, but I can get ninety miles an hour out
of her.  I'll take you for a run, only you'll have to wrap up warmly.  "

Emily's eyes shone.

"That sounds fun, I'd like that."

The two men went off on their own in Utrecht.  Doctor Wright wanted to renew
his acquaintance with the medical staff at the hospital and, Emily guessed,
show himself off as a splendid example of the Professor's surgery.  She and
Mrs Wright, left to themselves, made for the shops and spent an interesting
time looking at clothes.  Finally Mrs Wright bought herself a velvet dress
which, she explained, was suitable to her age and appearance and Emily,
carried away by the excitement of the shops with all their Christmas
delights, allowed herself--with no difficulty at all--to be persuaded into
buying a lovely flyaway chiffon dress in rose pink, its scooped-out neckline
bound with a darker satin and with ballooning elbow sleeves.  It gave her a
glow and Mrs Wright, standing beside her while she studied herself in the
looking glass, said softly: "It's beautiful, dear, it makes you look very
pretty, especially if you do your hair in a different style--a little softer,
if you see what I mean--such nice hair, too."

"And have you enjoyed yourselves?"  the  Professor wanted to know.

"Naturally you went to see the Dom Tower, and climbed its four hundred and
sixty-five steps, and probably you had time to pay a visit to the Central
Museum and take a quick peep at the Brutenhof Almshouses as well.  Probably
you didn't get as far as the Devil's Stone."

"We each bought a dress," Emily told him, a little breathless, because she
was sitting beside him again and he seemed to have that effect upon her.

"And so have I," observed Mrs Wright from the back seat.

"We've had a lovely time; we thought we'd compete in the glamour stakes on
Christmas night.  I daresay there will be some gorgeous girls there."

"Of course."  Emily didn't see the lightning glance he threw at her mediocre
profile.

"Franz is bringing a Vogue model with him, I shall cut him out."  Franz was
his younger brother, Emily had discovered that from Mrs Wright.  There was a
sister too, married and living in Amsterdam, much younger than the Professor.
They would be coming for Christmas, together with a great many aunts and
uncles and cousins.

"And New Year, too, my dear--it will be as much fun as Christmas."

Back in the Professor's great house, snug in her pleasant room, Emily
experimented with her hair, re-did her face, and went downstairs.

 Presumably there would be tea, if only she could find the room it would be
in.

She had reached the hall when Hans appeared, smiling, and led her to a small
arched door at its end.

"Tea will be served in here, miss--Mrs Wright is already downstairs."

The room was small compared with the others, panelled and richly cosy with
moss green curtains and carpet and pink lamp shades to cast a glow over
everything.  There was a brisk fire burning in the steel grate, too, and Mrs
Wright was sitting by it, looking at a magazine.  She looked up as Emily went
in.

"The men are in Renier's study, deep in blood and bones, as usual.  We'll
have tea on our own, shall we?"

It was pleasant sitting there, drinking tea from delicate china cups and
eating Bep's little biscuits, and after a while the men joined them, saying
that they had had their tea, and before long they were deep in a discussion
about Christmas.

"I thought we might have a crowd in for drinks on Christmas Eve," observed
the Professor, 'friends and acquaintances and the family, of course--there'll
just be family on Christmas Day.  There's a party at my sister's on Boxing
Day and everyone goes home on the following day.  Then at New Year, it will
be the family again--1 thought we might have a dance and ask in a few
neighbours.  "

Emily, listening to his quiet, unhurried voice,  felt as though she were in
a dream.  It didn't seem possible that only a short while ago she had been
making paper chains to cheer a lonely Christmas.

But loneliness was something she could forget now; there was so much to do
and see; her days were full.  The Wrights had breakfast in their room and on
her second morning she found that she was to share hers with the Professor.
At least, she discovered, she shared the table with him, but hardly his
attention; that was taken up with his letters and the papers, although his
manners were too good to allow her to feel neglected.  But the conversation
he tossed at her from time to time was a little absent-minded and consisted
of enquiries as to how she had slept, whether her breakfast was to her liking
and polite remarks about the weather.  After ten minutes or so she told him
kindly: "Look, do get on with your post and the papers; I don't a bit mind if
you don't talk.  My father never spoke a word at breakfast."  She smiled at
him across the table.

"I'll have breakfast in my room, if you like, it must be vexing to have me
here and feel that I must be talked to."

He had put down the letter he was holding to look at her.

"I do believe you mean that," he observed in some astonishment.

"It's true I breakfast alone except for the dogs, but if you will forgive me
not making small talk, then I  should much prefer you to breakfast with me."
He smiled suddenly and she felt warmed by it.  "You are a very restful girl.
Emily."

She stared at him for a long moment and he added with perception: "You're not
going to forget, are you?  Will you believe me when I say that from whatever
angle I see you, you no longer merge into the background?"

Very nicely put, thought Emily, he'd charm money from a miser's purse.

Aloud she said: "Yes, I'll believe you and even though I--I haven't forgotten
I don't hold it against you, you know.  Only I don't think I'm prim."

He gave a bellow of laughter which made her jump.

"No, I don't think so either.  What are you going to do today?  I suggested
to Maud Wright that she took you on a tour of the house--Hans will go with
you; his English is quite good.  I'd take you myself, but I'm tied up for the
next few days.

Feel free to do what you like, Emily, and if you want a car, just ask
Hans--there's a Mini in the garage eating its head off for lack of exercise.
"

She thanked him politely and went on eating her breakfast while he returned
to his.  They didn't see each other again until the evening and then not
alone.  She saw that he was tired and although she said nothing he crossed
the room to sit with her while they had their drinks before dinner.

"I've had a busy unrewarding day," he  told her.

"I wish I could tell you about it.  Sometimes I wonder why I chose to be a
surgeon."

"Because you didn't want to do anything else," said Emily promptly, 'and for
every day that goes wrong, two go right.  "

"Do days go wrong for you, Emily?  I seem to remember.  .  ."

She smiled widely.

"Oh, yes--and mine always seem to come in bunches."

He twisted his glass idly.

"Do you expect to hear from Louisa while you're here?"

The question surprised her and made her vaguely unhappy.

"No--she doesn't like writing letters.  She told me she had a lot of
invitations over Christmas."

"She's the kind of girl who always will.  A very pretty girl, your little
sister, with a sharp eye to turning things to her advantage, especially men."

Emily hastened to Louisa's defence.

"She's very young, and--and she was the youngest, you know.  They always get
a bit spoilt."

He stood up.

"My youngest isn't going to be spoilt.  Shall we go in to dinner?"

The rest of the evening was spent pleasantly enough playing a far from
serious game of bridge, although Emily suspected that if the other three had
had their way they would have played the game with the concentration it
needed.  She wasn't good at it herself, but  no one seemed to mind her
revokings and trumpings, which wouldn't have been quite as bad if she had
bent the whole of her mind on to the game, but a bit of it was mulling over
the Professor's remarks about Louisa.  He couldn't be in love with her after
all; just amused.  Probably he liked his girls a bit older.  She already knew
that he liked them beautiful and blonde and unblushing.

Christmas Eve was upon them before they realised it; two men staggered in
with a gigantic Christmas tree as Emily was going down to breakfast, and
disappeared into the drawing room with it, and there was an undercurrent of
subdued bustle throughout the big house.  The first of the guests would be
arriving after lunch.  Emily had peeped into some of the bedrooms upstairs
and seen that they were ready with books and tins of biscuits by the beds and
flowers on the tables.  The two elderly maids whom she hardly ever glimpsed
must have been busy.

The Professor greeted her with: "The tree's here--we'll decorate it after
lunch.  Do you want anything from Utrecht?  It's your last chance."

She thought.

"No, I don't think so, I've got all my presents."

He nodded.

"There's some post for you."  He got up and brought her a small pile of
letters and two small packages, and she settled happily  to opening them.
Cards from girls she knew at the hospital, a lovely silk scarf from Mary and
George, handkerchiefs from the twins, and in the other packet, something from
Louisa, two pairs of tights--the wrong size, Emily noted wryly.

There was plenty to keep them occupied during the morning.  She and Mrs
Wright tied the last of their presents while the doctor read his paper and
presently Emily put on her outdoor things and walked to the village.

They needed more labels and she was nothing loath to trying out the odd word
of Dutch she had painstakingly acquired during the week she had been in
Holland.  She was on her way back when the Professor overtook her in the Jag.
He stopped and opened the door for her to get in, observing as he did so:
"Our good Dutch air suits you, Emily, your cheeks are pink."

"And my nose, I've no doubt.  But it's lovely here.  Don't you dislike London
when you have to go there?"

"There's more social life there--theatres and good restaurants, but this is
my home."

He turned the Jag into the drive and slowed the car.

"Do you like my home, Emily?"

"Very much.  It's a bit large--I mean, not for you because you're used to it,
but it's..  ."  she paused for a word and couldn't find one.

"It's very beautiful," she finished.

"You must love it."

 "Well, yes," he had idled the car to a halt before the door, 'an ancestor
of mine built it and we've lived in it ever since.  I know every stick and
stone about the place and every man, woman and child for miles around, and if
that makes me sound deadly dull, I enjoy a night out at a London night club
as much as the next man.  "

"I've never been to a night club," said Emily, and then blushed because it
sounded as though she was fishing to be taken to one.  But it couldn't have
entered his head; his face remained blandly polite as he leaned across to
open her door.

Decorating the tree turned out to be a hilarious business; it involved
climbing up and down a ladder, laden with tinsel or whatever, while those who
weren't doing the climbing stood round telling the climber just what to do.
Halfway through the first of the family arrived--the Professor's sister
Evelina and her husband Nikolaas.  Evelina was tall and slim and very pretty
with the Professor's straight nose and big blue eyes.  She hugged her
brother, greeted the Wrights like old friends and then hugged Emily.

"Isn't this fun?"  she asked everyone in an English almost as good as the
Professor's.

"Nik, do go and bring in the presents and I'm dying for tea or a drink."

"Tea," her brother corrected her.

"Hans shall bring it in a few minutes."

He spoke from the other side of the tree, standing on the top rung of the
ladder while he arranged the star just so.

 His younger brother Franz came next, accompanied by a willowy girl with
huge eyes and the kind of make-up Emily could never hope to achieve.  She
shuddered at the sight of the sugary cakes and biscuits which had arrived
with the tea tray and drank her tea without sugar or milk, muttering about
calories to anyone who would listen to her.  Emily wondered if Franz was
serious about her and thought not; he must have been at least ten years
younger than the Professor, good-looking, she conceded, but cast in a less
giant like mould than his brother.  He was charming to her so that she began
to enjoy herself, and when somebody turned on the radio and he caught her
round the waist and whirled her into the centre of the big room to dance, she
whirled and twirled with the unselfconscious pleasure of a little girl.

More aunts and uncles and cousins arrived presently, so that the old house
rang with voices and laughter and finally, when Emily went downstairs before
dinner, wearing the velvet skirt and the Liberty top, she had taken Mrs
Wright's advice too and taken great pains with her hair; instead of screwing
it rather tightly into a big knob on top of her head, she had allow the sides
to be looser and rolled her brown hair into carefully pinned coils.  She only
hoped that they would stay as they were and she still wasn't sure if all her
effort had been worthwhile.

 But they had.  The Professor, waiting in his vast drawing room, his
grandmother already sitting by fire, a few of his family already assembled,
crossed the silky carpet to meet her.  He stopped short in front other and
said, smiling a little: "You have such pretty hair; I've often wondered why
you scraped it back so severely.  It's nice.  Come and have a drink."

He was an accomplished host; in no time at all she was the centre of a group
of aunts and uncles, who in turn passed her on to more aunts and uncles and
cousins and finally she found herself by old Mevrouw Jurres-Romeijn's chair.

The old lady put out a hand and took hers.  "How charming you look, my
dear--your hair is different, I think.  Renier was quite right when he told
me that you grow on one.  He hardly noticed you at first, did he?  but one of
the surgeons told him that and he found out for himself that it was true."

Emily blushed and wondered if the Professor had told his grandmother to tell
her that; he was quite capable of it.  She contradicted herself at once.  He
wouldn't do anything as petty as that; if he wanted to be nasty, he did it in
a big way.  She saw that the old lady was still waiting for her answer.

"That's very kind of him," she said in a quiet little voice, and was
intensely relieved when one of the uncles joined them and began to talk about
the coming festivities.

 Christmas Day was something she had never imagined and which she would
never forget.  The entire party went to the village church in the morning,
sitting in the family pews and overflowing into the rest of the little
church, and afterwards there was a light lunch before everyone dispersed to
do what they liked until tea time.  The Wrights already knew many of the
Professor's family and Emily, suddenly shy of attaching herself to any of the
cheerful, gossiping groups, slipped away and up the stairs to her room.  No
one would miss her and she could go down at teatime.  Perhaps it would be an
idea to go for a walk; it was cold but dry and light for another hour or so.
She went to the window to look out and when someone tapped on the door she
said 'come in' without turning round.

"Now, why did you make off?"  asked the Professor, coming into the room.

"No, don't tell me--the family are overpowering--I did warn you.  Put on your
coat and a scarf, we'll go for a walk--the dogs need exercise."

"Really?"  asked Emily.

"Really.  I'll meet you by the front door in one minute."

They walked right round the park, with the dogs running races round them,
barking their heads off, talking about nothing much, sometimes just walking
in a companionable silence, and Emily was happy down to her bones; it 
wouldn't last, she knew that, but just for the moment life was everything she
could wish for.  No one seemed to have missed them when they got back; they
had tea and presently everyone drifted away to dress.

Emily was glad she had bought the pink dress when she got downstairs again;
the women's clothes were lovely and so were their jewels.  She joined the
Wrights for a few minutes and blossomed under their compliments, and when
Franz joined them with: "Hullo, my beauty," she beamed at him with delight.
Elizabeth Arden must be doing some good after all!

It was the Professor who set the seal on her evening with his: "Emily, I
hardly recognised you."  He twirled her round to get a better view.  "Quite
superb.  And unexpected."

The dinner party was a large one, and Emily, between two cousins, enjoyed
every minute of it.  And Bep had certainly excelled herself: avocado pears
with a shrimp stuffing, turtle soup, turkey with everything that went with
it, and then a giant Christmas pudding borne aloft by Hans, blue flames
licking at it.  Emily clapped with everyone else as it was brought to table
and drank, rather recklessly, a third glass of champagne.

Coffee was in the drawing room, but first the presents were to be
distributed; a lengthy business, with something for everyone.  Emily 
opening her own presents gloves from the Wrights, a delicate porcelain cup
and saucer from Mevrouw Jurres-Romeijn, and old print from Evelina and Franz
paused at the last unopened gift to watch the Professor.  She hadn't known
what to give him; he had everything, so in the end she had settled for a
silver mouse with a long tail, small enough to go into a pocket or for that
matter, tuck away in a drawer and forget.  She studied his face anxiously as
he opened it and was pleased to see that he slipped it at once into his
waistcoat pocket.  Only then did she untie her last present.

It was a small velvet box and inside was her locket and a little card: "With
best wishes from Renier Jurres-Romeijn."  She fastened it round her neck with
fingers that shook and presently when he came to thank her for the mouse, she
asked urgently: "Did you buy it my locket?  Was it you who got there before
Louisa?"

He smiled down at her.

"Yes.  It goes well with your dress."

"Thank you you've no idea thank you very much!"  She stared up at him, her
nice eyes wide.

"It was so kind.  .."

He laughed down at her.

"I'm not sure if I should feel flattered or not!"

She hardly saw him to speak to on the following day.  Several carloads went
up to Amsterdam to  spend most of the day at Evelina's house on one of the
grachten; there seemed to be so many people there that Emily decided that she
only had the chance to speak to everyone once, and to the Professor not at
all.

There were several pretty girls there too with their attendant young men,
friends of Evelina.  They swarmed round Renier like bees round a honey pot and
from what she could see, he was enjoying it immensely.

They didn't get back to his house until late in the evening and because
Doctor Wright was tired she helped him to bed, saw that he had his supper and
his favourite books and then went downstairs to say goodnight herself.

Mrs Wright was on the point of going to bed herself.  She kissed Emily
goodnight with the cheerful remark that Reg hated her to fuss over him and it
was a good thing that Emily was there to order him around when he needed it.
Emily kissed her back warmly: "And mind and see that he's got the bell handy,
though I think he's going to sleep soundly, he's so tired."

"Yes, dear.  Renter's in his study, telephoning the hospital about something
or other.  He said you're not to go to bed until he's said goodnight."

So Emily went and sat down by the fire, and presently the cat got on to her
lap and what with the warmth and all the champagne she had drunk, she dozed
off.  She woke to find the fire  dying and the hands of the clock at two
o'clock in the morning.  She stared at it unbelieving for a moment, then
removed the still sleeping cat, turned out the table lamp and started for the
door.  She was in the hall when the front door opened and the Professor came
in.  He had his bag with him and he put it down on the nearest chair and took
off his coat before he spoke.  "What on earth are you still up for?"  he
demanded.  He sounded so ill-tempered that she chose her words carefully.

"Well, when I came downstairs Mrs Wright gave me a message saying that I
wasn't to go to bed until you'd said goodnight.  So I went and sat by the
fire and went to sleep."

It seemed prudent to take herself off.  She was on the stairs when he caught
up with her.

"Emily, I'm sorry I did say that.  But I had to go to the hospital in a hurry
and I entirely forgot about you."

She went on up the stairs.

"It doesn't matter a bit; it was lovely by the fire.  But I think I'll go to
bed now.  Goodnight."  She turned to smile at him before she reached the
gallery.  He was on the bottom step, incredibly handsome and tired to death.
Heaven knew what he had been doing; she'd ask another time.  As she got ready
for bed she thought sadly that she was the kind of girl a man would forget
entirely.  She stared at her reflection as she rubbed a nourishing  cream
into her pale face.  It wasn't a nourishing cream she needed, it was a new
face, the kind of face a man remembered.

CHAPTER EIGHT

it seemed that no sooner was Christmas over than preparations for the New
Year were under way.  Emily spent a whole morning with Mevrouw
Jurres-Romeijn, listening to every detail of what would take place while
Emma, the old lady's devoted maid, made coffee for them both.

"Cards,"

explained the little lady.

"We all send cards to each other with good wishes, and at midnight we eat
Olie Boll en."  She paused.  "In English that is oil balls, but that is I
think not correct."

Emily knit her brows.

"Doughnuts?"  she essayed, and was pleased to find that she had hit on
something near enough to the truth to please her companion.

"And we sing, of course," went on Mevrouw Jurres-Romeijn, 'and toast the New
Year it is a splendid time.  "

Emily left her presently and wandered off to find Mrs Wright to discuss the
vexed question of what to wear.

"Oh, the pink, my dear, it's a very dressy occasion, you know.  I shall wear
the velvet again."

179  "Will there be the same people or a lot of new ones?"

"Both--Renier has open house at New Year, he's the head of the family, you
see."

"Lots of pretty girls?"  asked Emily.

"Bound to be."  Mrs Wright shot her a thoughtful look.

"Franz will be coming and Evelina and her husband.  Franz has a different
girl each time I see him.  It's time he settled down."

"Oughtn't R-Renier to settle down first?"

"Oh, he's made up his mind who he's marrying."

Emily turned away.  She said brightly: "This is such a lovely house for a
family, isn't it?"

She dressed carefully for the evening, although there seemed no point in it
any more.  She admitted to herself that the unlikely chance of the Professor
getting even faintly interested in her was now washed out.  He'd made' up his
mind to marry and although he might flirt around with a dozen pretty girls
they meant nothing to him.  And she wasn't even pretty.

The evening was fun, all the same.  Certainly there were pretty girls there,
but there were an equal number of young men, all willing to entertain her,
and when it was discovered that she danced like a dream, there was no lack of
partners.  It was almost midnight when Renier swept her away from Franz with
the remark that it was his turn to dance with her,

"If," he added, 'you  can bear to dance something as old-fashioned as a
waltz.  "

Speechless, Emily nodded.  Her carefully arranged hair had come a little
loose and her cheeks were flushed and she had to crane her neck to see his
face.  He danced well, and she she floated round on air, loving every second,
wanting to go on for ever.

Actually it was only a few minutes before the band stopped playing so that
everyone could hear the great clock in the hall chime midnight, and at its
last stroke there was a sudden burst of good wishes and kissing while Hans
and Bep and the maids wove their way around with more champagne.

Emily drank her toast at the last stroke and said in a quiet little voice: "A
Happy New Year, Renier."

He bent and kissed her cheek: "And to you, Emily."  He smiled as he said it
and the next moment was engulfed in a wave of singing, laughing guests.

Emily, caught up between two elderly gentlemen she had never seen before,
lost sight of him altogether.

The party went on for hours, but she didn't dance with the Professor again.
She saw him partnering one pretty girl after the other and she looked in vain
for the one he must surely intend to marry, but he spent no more time with
one that the other.  It seemed strange, but perhaps  she was away or even
lived in another country.  Emily occupied herself while she danced with
imagining what his wife would be like.  Beautiful and blonde, of course--an
older edition of Louisa.

She was so tired by the time she got to bed that she really didn't care any
more.

She was up at the usual time in the morning, she was too young and healthy to
notice a late night--besides, Renier would be at breakfast.  Only he wasn't;
he'd gone out early, Hans told her, an urgent call from the hospital.  Emily
didn't see him all day.

She had a message from Mevrouw JurresRomeijn the next morning, asking her if
she would like to go to her rooms after lunch and talk over the party, and
since there was still no sign of the Professor although Hans had assured her
that he was free that day, and the \yrights had nothing on hand which needed
her company, she went along about two o'clock.

There was no sign of the old lady when she reached the wing where she had her
rooms.  Emily, thinking she had been mistaken, searched through the house for
her fruitlessly and retraced her steps.  It seemed strange that the old lady
wasn't in her rooms.  Emily, by means of basic English and the half dozen
words she had learned, asked Emma where she was and got a shake of the head
in reply, accompanied by  spread hands and raised eyebrows.

"Is she out?"  Emily tried again.

Emma went away to look in the vast wardrobe in Mevrouw Jurres-Romeijn's
bedroom and came back looking shaken.

"Hoed, mantel-- weg,: So the old lady had got on her outdoor things, but the
question was where was she?  Emily stood and thought carefully while Emma
wrung her hands.

Mevrouw Jurres-Romeijn had said something on Christmas Eve; about not going
to see one of the retired maids who was ill because Renier had told her not
to go on account of the weather.  She had sounded very put out, Emily
remembered, and moreover she was an old lady who liked her own way.

She patted Emma's stout shoulders, nodding and smiling, and before that lady
could burst into speech, hurried away.

It wouldn't be any good telling the Wrights-- it wouldn't be any good telling
anyone.  The household was taking its post-prandial rest and Renier, who
would have known what to do at once, wasn't home, nor would he be until the
evening.  She had watched him drive away with a pretty girl who had called
that morning, someone he knew well, she supposed miserably, for she had flung
her arms round his neck and kissed him and he had laughed down at her and
taken her arm and they had disappeared into his study for half an hour.
Emily remembered just how  long it was because she had been reading the
Telegraph to Doctor Wright, and could see both his study door and the great
wall clock in the hall from where she was sitting.

She went straight to her room, put on her coat, tied a scarf over her hair,
snatched up her gloves, rammed her feet into her boots, and let herself out
of a side door.  She was just shutting it when Hans came into the passage.
He gave her an enquiring look but didn't say anything, and she didn't wait;
something told her that she must find Renter's grandmother quickly.

She knew where the retired members of the household lived--a pleasant row of
small cottages on the edge of the estate, ten minutes' walk away, but only
five if she cut across the park.  It was very cold and slippery underfoot and
before long her hands and feet were numb, so that she skidded unsteadily on
the rutted path.  But presently she came out by the cottages, six of them,
all very neat and one or two with lights shining from the windows already
although it was still barely three o'clock.  She hadn't bothered much until
that moment as to what she was going to say and she hesitated at the first
door, but surely just to mention Mevrouw JurresRomeijn by name was
sufficient?  She thumped the old-fashioned iron knocker and stamped her cold
feet.

An old woman came to the door, peering  round it in the manner of one who
wasn't over- keen to open it anyway, but her face cleared when Emily asked
politely: "Mevrouw JurresRomeijn is here?"  It sounded the same in both
languages and the old woman shook her head at once and pointed to the cottage
at the other end, so Emily said, "Dank U, mevrouw," in her politest manner
and made her way over the brick path connecting the cottages to one at the
end of the row, where she repeated her performance all over again, to be met
this time with a flood of information which meant nothing at all to her.  It
took a few minutes of hand-waving, nodding and head-shaking to discover that
Mevrouw Jurres-Romeijn had indeed been there, but instead of going back the
way she had come, had gone on, taking the vague path which skirted the water
meadows.  Emily looked at them now, a bleak stretch of frozen grass fading
into an early dusk.  There was a scattering of trees along one side and what
looked like a copse beyond them.  Probably, she thought miserably, the old
lady was lying in it, frozen solid to the ground or, worse, had tumbled into
one of the many canals which crisscrossed the meadows.  She nodded at the old
woman, waved an arm towards the copse and set off.  The afternoon was fast
sliding into a cold, grey dusk, and as she picked her way along she felt a
few drops of sleet.

"Oh, God," prayed Emily out loud, 'do for heaven's  sake let me find her
quickly and don't let it rain until I do.  " She meant every word of it,
which was perhaps why the rain, or whatever it was, ceased almost at once.

The path she followed was indeed a vague one; several times she missed it
altogether and she had no idea where it led.  The cottages were on the
extreme edge of the Professor's land, so presumably she was on someone else's
property, although there was no sign of a house.  As she neared the copse and
the trees she began calling, standing still and straining her ears for a
reply.  But there was none, so she plodded on, muttering to herself about the
gathering gloom and the weather and why had she ever come to Holland in the
first place.  But she fell silent as she reached the trees, a clump of firs
with a great deal of undergrowth; they would be difficult enough to search in
broad daylight.  She ventured into them, scared now because it was almost
dark under their branches and she was convinced that she would never find the
way out again and even if she did it would be bound to be the wrong end.

"I wish I had a torch!"  She spoke loudly and her voice sounded so strange in
the middle of the silence that she caught her breath.  At the same time she
caught her toe in something and fell sprawling.  The something was Mevrouw
Jurres-Romeijn, lying very still.  Emily scrambled to her knees and bent over
her, but  when she spoke the old lady didn't answer.

"And I'm not surprised," said Emily, talking to herself again, 'you probably
hit your head on something and now you're half frozen.  "

She felt for a wrist and was heartened to find a steady pulse, but the old
lady was icy cold.  Emily took off her coat and wrapped it round the small
body while she thought what was best to do.  She could run back to the
cottages and tell someone, but on reflection that wasn't such a good idea.
She hadn't the faintest idea which way she had come into the trees and it was
now so dark she might lose her way even if she gained the water meadows,
besides which, it would take along time to explain what had happened and in
the meantime Mevrouw Jurres-Romeijn might recover, take fright, and disappear
again, and if she didn't do that, she might freeze to death-- after all, she
was old.

Emily decided reluctantly to stay where she was and hope that someone would
come and find them.  After all, Emily knew Hans had seen her go out and if
someone called at the cottages they would be able to direct help.

She felt her unconscious companion carefully and discovered a badly swollen
ankle.  There was nothing she could do about that, but she lifted the old
lady very gently so that she was cradled in her arms.  There was a chance
that she would keep tolerably warm cuddled against Emily,  although Emily
was getting colder with every minute--not only that, she was half sitting,
half crouching on the frozen ground and its icy hardness was boring straight
into her.  It was very quiet; no bird was going to open its beak on an
evening like this and no wild creature with any sense would poke its nose out
of its hidey-hole.  Only the branches above her head creaked in the wind
until the silence was broken by the sound of steady rain.  After a few
minutes it found its way through the branches and trickled down her neck and
on to her scarf.  She pulled Mevrouw Jurres-Romeijn's fur hat over part of
her face and tightened her hold, suddenly uncertain if she were doing the
right thing.  Perhaps no one would come; Mrs Wright had said that the
Professor wouldn't be back until after tea and if he were enjoying himself
with the pretty girl Emily had seen, then she for her part couldn't blame him
if he were even later than that.

Hans might come, of course; she cheered up at the thought and began to shout,
astonished that she hadn't thought of doing so before.  She was even more
astonished when she was answered by a distant bellow.

"In the trees!"  she screamed, and then, stupidly: "Over here!"

She should have shouted in Dutch, of course, only she didn't know the word
for trees.  She shouted again and added: "Hurry, please hurry!"  and caught
her breath as the beam from a powerful torch was shone over her, and the
Professor's voice, sounding quite harsh, came from somewhere behind it.  It
was a pity that he spoke in Dutch, for she couldn't understand a word of it,
and when he switched to English he sounded as calm as he always did.

"I hurried the moment I heard you scream," he told her mildly.  He dropped on
a knee beside her and lifted his grandmother out of her stiff, numbed arms,
and Emily, now that they were being rescued, allowed the tears to stream down
her cold cheeks.

"She's been unconscious all the time," she said through chattering teeth.

"I couldn't examine her properly, but I felt her arms and legs; her left
ankle's swollen."  She gulped.

"Her pulse wasn't too bad.  She's not-- not...?"

"No, she's not."  He lifted his voice in a great bellow and she saw
torchlight through the trees.  "And you?"  His voice was very gentle now, not
harsh at all.

"Are you all right, little Emily?"

"Yes--yes, I'm fine."  People crowded round them now, half a dozen men with
torches, all talking at once.  The Professor spoke to them and the stretcher
someone had been carrying was unfolded and his grandmother gently laid upon
it.  Emily's coat was still wrapped round her, but she had forgotten all
about it.  It wasn't until the Professor straightened up from another quick
examination of the old lady and seen the  stretcher bearers on their way
that he exclaimed: "Your coat--where is it?  You're frozen, Emily!"

"I put it round your granny."  She was still crying although she didn't know
it any more.  She started to get to her feet and discovered that they were
numb with the cold and wouldn't do anything she wanted them to do, but now it
didn't matter, for the Professor had taken off his sheepskin jacket and
enveloped her in it with a word to the men standing by, picked her up, and
lighted by his companions, carried her out of the wood.  The rain had turned
to sleet and the wind had strengthened its cold breath and she muttered
against his jacket: "You'll catch your death of cold."  But he only laughed,
a deep rumble which vibrated against her ear and somehow made her feel quite
cheerful again.

From time to time she begged him to put her down, but it was a waste of
breath--he^ took no notice at all, striding steadily over the icy ground
until he reached the cottages.  There was a Range Rover parked in the narrow
lane and the men were putting the stretcher carefully into it.  The Professor
slid Emily tidily into the front seat and went to take another look at his
grandmother, but only for a moment.  He got in beside her, Hans clambered
into the back while the other men went back to their cottages, and before she
had time to realise that her arms and legs were thawing and hurting like
blazes, they were  before the house.

"Stay where you are," commanded the Professor, and leapt out, and Emily,
tired and shivering with cold and a still remembered fright, was only too
happy to do as she was told.

When he came back she asked: "Your grandmother?  Is she all right?  Will she
have to go to hospital?"

He had got in beside her and flung an arm round her shoulders and she longed
to lean against him and have another good howl, but instead she held herself
stiffly and she felt his hold slacken.

"No, I don't think so--she's conscious now and her ankle's sprained, not
broken.  There's no sign of concussion; I think it was the cold and the shock
of the fall.

I've telephoned for a nurse to come out and be with her for the night.  We
can take another look at her in the morning, what she needs now is a sound
sleep.  " He turned to look searchingly at her puffy blotchy face.

"And so do you.  Bep is going to see you into bed.  A bath first, not too
hot, mind, and I'll come and look you over later."

"But I'm quite all right, really I am, only cold."

"And brave and uncomplaining and sensible.  You saved Grandmother's life,
Emily.  I can never thank you enough for that."  He sighed.  "The darling,
pig-headed old lady!  I should have guessed.  I suppose she saw me go out
with Heleen."

 "I saw you go out with her, too."  said Emily, and could have bitten out
her tongue for saying it.

"A pretty girl, isn't she?"  observed the Professor blandly.

"And now--bed, my girl."

He helped her out of the car because her feet weren't really quite themselves
yet and once in the hall he picked her up and took her upstairs and dumped
her on the bed with Mrs Wright and Bep hovering on either side.

"You'll eat your supper," he told her, 'then I'll come and have a look at
you.  "

A warm bath was heaven with Mrs Wright and Bep fussing round her like two
fond mothers, and because she sneezed twice as she got into bed, Bep fetched
a woollen shawl and insisted on tucking Emily into it before her supper was
brought up to her.

"Eat every morsel," warned Mrs Wright, and Emily, quite famished, did just
that, and what with the good food and a kind of delayed relief, she closed
her eyes and fell asleep.

When she woke up the Professor was sitting on the side of the bed, holding
her hand.  As she opened her eyes he observed: "You look about ten years old
with all that hair and that woolly shawl.  Bep tells me that you sneezed."

She was about to tell him that she often sneezed but never caught cold when
she sneezed again, whereupon he got up, went to the door,  shouted

"Maud!"  and came back again, this time to lean over the end of the bed, the
stethoscope he had carried in his pocket in his hand.

Mrs Wright joined them so quickly, Emily guessed that she had been waiting
just outside the door.

"Now it's me being the nurse," she declared cheerfully.

"What am I supposed to doEr--unwrap Emily, if you would be so kind--just the shawl so that I can
listen to her chest.  I'm not sure how long she was with Grandmother, but
it's pretty cold outside."

So Emily sat up in bed and said 'ninety-nine' each time he told her to and
coughed meekly on command.

"Nothing there," he assured her, and sounded just like the family doctor; a
nice mixture of impersonal friendliness and reassurance.  "Stay in bed for
breakfast, Emily, and I'll take another look at you in the morning."

"Very well, and will you please let me know how Mevrouw Jurres-Romeijn is
getting on?"  She sneezed again and scrabbled round for a hanky and the
Professor handed her his.  It was enormous, very white, and smelled faintly
of the best sort of aftershave.  Emily blew hard and felt a silly wish to
burst into tears again.  She caught the first of them in time, though.

"Oh, dear, now my eyes are watering--perhaps I have caught a cold, after all."

The Professor was eyeing her closely.

 "Perhaps you have.  On the other hand.  .."  He didn't finish whatever it
was he was going to say but uttered an abrupt 'goodnight," and walked out of
the room.

"He's had a trying day," said Mrs Wright.

Now he'd gone Emily didn't bother about the tears.  She mopped them away
carelessly and said: "How could he have, with that pretty girl he told me her
name--Heleen."

"Yes, dear.  One of any number.  They all look alike to me."  She added
vaguely: "It's like putting oil of cloves on an aching tooth, it soothes it
for a time, but it doesn't cure it."

Emily was quite mystified; she had no idea what Mrs Wright meant, suddenly
talking about toothache.  Probably she was tired too.  She sighed,
remembering how the Professor had left the room like that, just as though he
couldn't bear the sight of her for another minute.  And yet he had been very
kind when he had found them.

"I think I shall sleep like a top," she told Mrs Wright.

But before she could curl up for the night Bep appeared once more with a
glass of milk heavily laced with brandy.  She was to drink every drop, the
Professor had said so.  She did as she was bid, too sleepy to argue, and then
still wrapped in Bep's shawl, drifted off within minutes, greatly helped by
the brandy.  She didn't wake all night, certainly not when the Professor came
into the  room on his way to his own bed in the early hours of the morning.
He stood for a long while looking down at her.  Only her face was visible,
the rest was shrouded in wool, her hair spilling out untidily on to the
pillows.

She was a little flushed and her small nose was pink.  There were tear stains
on her cheeks too, which she hadn't bothered to wipe away.  She looked, if
truth must be told, like a very ordinary girl with a cold, but the Professor
looked at her as though he had never seen anyone quite as beautiful in all
his life.

The cold, routed by Emily's extremely good health, the brandy and a good
night's sleep in a warm bed, was nothing more than a vague snuffle in the
morning.  The Professor, paying her a visit after breakfast, assured her that
she had taken no harm from her cold sojourn, agreed that there was no reason
why she couldn't get up if she felt like it, and observed that he would be
away all day.  His manner, though friendly, was distant and he wasted no time
on light conversation.  Emily had the strong feeling that he couldn't get
away fast enough.  He did remain long enough for her to enquire after Mevrouw
Jurres-Romeijn, though.  The old lady had slept all night, he assured her,
and had sat up and eaten a splendid breakfast not half an hour since.  He
intended bringing a colleague back with him that evening to examine her and
the ankle would  keep her off her feet for a few days.  The nurse was to
remain and his grandmother had expressed a wish for Emily to visit her if and
when she felt inclined to do so.

"She knew nothing of you finding her, of course," explained the Professor,
already half way to the door, 'but she wants to thank you for saving her
life.  "

"Oh, pooh," said Emily, embarrassed to the point of gruffness.

"I didn't do anything any- one who'd have found her would have done the same."

He paused once more, his hand on the door.  "Yes, but it was you who found
her, Emily."  He didn't return her tentative smile as he went out.

The Wrights were being driven by Hans to see some friends living in Loenen.
Emily, up and dressed and assuring Bep that she had never felt better, went
along to the floor, above.  Mevrouw Jurres-Romeijn was sitting up in bed, her
hair beautifully arranged as always, a lacy bed jacket trimmed with swansdown
that exactly matched the pink quilted bedspread, round her shoulders.  She
looked remarkably pretty and in the best of health.  The nurse who had
admitted Emily went away at a word from the old lady and Emily was told to
sit by the bed and make herself comfortable.

"Emma's going to fetch the coffee."  The bed's occupant looked Emily over
carefully.

"You looked a bit peaked, child.  I hope  there was no harm done Renier told
me that you were on the ground without your coat for some time.  I have to
thank you for taking such care of me, Emily, and for saving my life.  I am
deeply indebted to you."  She put out a delicately thin hand, with its thick
wedding ring.

"Come here and kiss me."

Emily dropped a soft kiss on the old cheek and took the hand in hers.

"I feel fine," she said gently, 'and I'm so glad that you do too.  I'm sorry
about the ankle, though, but Professor Jurres-Romeijn said that it wasn't too
bad a sprain.  "

"Why don't you call him Renier, child?"

Emily coloured faintly.

"Well, you see I've worked for him and seen him on the wards doing his rounds
and operating theatre it seems impertinent."

The old lady gave a chuckle.

"He wouldn't be pleased to hear that, he's not how do you say in your
English?  cocky."  She gave Emily's hand a little shake.

"Don't you like him, Emily?"

Emily blushed.  Whichever reply she made she could see that her companion was
going to ask her why, and then she'd have to answer that too.  She was saved
from answering by Emma coming in with the coffee tray and seized on her
respite to start talking feverishly about the weather, the Wrights going out
and what charming cottages there were on the estate.

 To all of which Mevrouw JurresRomeijn gave civil answers, only when they
had had their coffee and Emma had gone again, she repeated: "Don't you like
my grandson, Emily?"

"He's an excellent surgeon," she said at length, aware that her answer was in
danger of becoming hackneyed.

"Well, he could be that and quite unacceptable in every other respect,"

her companion pointed out a little tartly, 'but I think that is all the
answer I'm going to get.  "

"Yes," said Emily firmly, 'it is.  "

The old lady nodded to herself in a satisfied manner.

"It's my birthday in two days' time.  I shall be eighty-one, there will be a
party which you will attend, of course, for you don't return until two days
after that, do you?"

Emily smiled at the old lady.  She had known about the party, the Professor
had told them about it and she and Mrs Wright had put their heads together
over their presents; a frivolous pink chiffon hanky case, to match which
Emily had found some fine lawn hand-embroidered hankies.  They were to dress
for the occasion too and there would be a cake and champagne.  Mevrouw
Jurres-Romeijn's bright blue eyes sparkled with excitement as she talked
about it.

Presently Emily saw that the old lady was growing drowsy.  She bade her
goodbye, promising to come again in the evening, and went  downstairs.  It
was too early for her solitary lunch, so she wandered into the drawing room
and from there to the sitting room and the dining room, looking at all the
pictures as she went.  Some of them were very beautiful and she supposed
valuable too.  Presently she was joined by the dogs; Potter the bull terrier
and Soapy, so called because, as the Professor said, he was soft in the head.
They stayed with her until Bep came to tell her that her lunch was ready in
the small sitting room behind the drawing room.  They made nice company while
she ate it and because she felt a little lonely she talked to them as she did
so.  She had reached the pudding, an apple tart with thick rich cream
accompanying it, when the Professor walked in.  She should have guessed who
it was, of course, because the dogs had run to the door, but she was deep in
thought, wondering about a job and where she should live, but at the sound of
his voice telling the animals to behave themselves, she turned round to look
at him.

"Oh, they said you would be away all day."

"So I am officially, but I wanted to check up on Grandmother."   He had sat
himself down at the table and Bep arrived silently with a tray of coffee.

"I wanted to check up on you too, Emily."

The?  " She didn't quite meet his eye.

"I'm fine.  I sat with Mevrouw Jurres-Romeijn this  morning.  How will you
manage about her birthday party?"

"Easily enough.  Carry her down to the drawing room and arrange her on one of
the sofas.  Your cold has come to nothing?"

She bit into the pie and chewed it up before she answered.

"Yes."

The Professor leaned back in his chair, his coffee cup in his hand.

"If it was a cold.  It can resemble so many other things--a gush of tears,
for example."

"I was not crying," said Emily so quickly that he laughed.

"No?  All right, but tell me why you were, all the same."

"Well, I won't, and it couldn't possibly interest you anyway."

"What makes you say that?"  His voice was very smooth.  ^ "Nothing makes me
say it, I just know.  .  ."

Bep had brought in another cup and fresh coffee and he poured a cup for her
to take to Emily.  When she had gone again, he got up and walked round the
table and sat down on it, close to Emily, who sat looking into her cup as
though it held something much more fascinating than coffee.  Presently he
stretched out an arm, took the cup from her and set it in the saucer, and
when she looked up at him in surprise he bent down and kissed her.

 "Emily, you're going back with the Wrights in two days' time--would you
stay on here instead?"  She was surprised to hear the uncertainty in his
voice.

"You could look after Grandmother; she has become very fond of you, and..."

She cut him short, terrified that if she allowed him to continue she would
give in without any fight at all.  What heaven, she thought, to stay here and
see him every day, and at the same time she said sharply: "I can't--it's very
kind of you to suggest it, but I have several interviews lined up.  .."  She
plunged into a description of a series of mythical jobs she had been offered,
aware that his eyes were fixed on her face and not quite certain if he
believed her or not.

"So you see, I couldn't," she finished presently.

"You are anxious to return to London and work in a hospital there?  Carve a
future for yourself?"  His bland voice had an edge to it.

"Yes, oh, yes, rather!  I've always been sold on the idea of being a career
girl."

He got up from the table.

"I'm sorry, I had thought..  never mind.  The jobs you describe sound
splendid, almost too good to be true," his voice was dry.

"I'm sure you'll make a success of one or other of them."

He wandered to the door, whistling to the dogs as he went, so that Emily was
left quite alone,  contemplating a future in which she had no interest at
all.

She hardly saw him for the next two days.  Mrs Wright was at pains to tell
her that he was busy at his practice and had a number of patients at the
hospital as well.

"And not only in Utrecht," she remarked.

"There is a big hospital in Zeist, you know, and he does a lot of surgery
there, too."

All the same, even if he had no time for Emily, he seemed to have it for
everyone else.  The house seemed full on each successive evening with his
friends and Heleen always seemed to be with one or other party of guests.

Emily, keeping up her end of a variety of conversations with anyone who chose
to speak to her, kept a hawk's eye on the girl, not seeing, in her turn, that
the Professor contrived to keep her in view from wherever he happened to be.
She was heartily glad when these social occasions were over; she found them
hard to bear, for although the Professor was a charming host and was careful
to make her feel completely at home, there was never any chance to speak to
him alone.  Not, she reminded herself very frequently, that she wanted to do
that.

She spent a good deal of the morning with Mevrouw Jurres-Romeijn on her
birthday.  The old lady was in a reminiscing mood, sitting up in her easy
chair by the fire, surrounded by  presents and cards.  They had their coffee
together and when they had finished it she asked Emily to open a drawer in
the great pillow cupboard facing the bed, and bring her the leather-covered
albums there.  They were family photos and Emily, kneeling on a cushion by
the old lady, looked entranced at the Professor as a small boy, as a youth, a
student, a young man.  There were other photos too; of his parents and
brother and sister, but she didn't do more than glance at them but leafed
back the pages to those of Renier, listening all the white to her companion's
voice talking about him.  When the old lady said suddenly: "For a girl who
has no interest in Renier, you are remarkably thorough in your study of his
photographs."  Emily jerked upright to stare into the bright old eyes.

"Well," she mumbled, 'looking at photos is always fun.  "

"I'm sorry you won't stay," said Mevrouw JurresRomeijn.

"Yes, I--I.  ..  Oh, I can't, you must know that I can't."  She stopped,
appalled at her treacherous tongue, and her companion patted her hand and
said in a gentle little voice: "Yes, my dear, I do know."  She leaned back in
her chair and went on in quite a different voice: "I'm sure you'll make a
great success of your new job when you get it, my dear.  And now tell me, are
you going to wear that charming  dress you wore at Christmas?  It was so
pretty.  I have a new one, you know--grey chiffon, and I shall wear my
diamonds."

They talked clothes after that and who would be at the party, and presently
Emily went downstairs to take a look at Doctor Wright; he had seemed a little
off colour, she had thought, perhaps he had been overdoing things a little.
But the holiday had done him good; he was full of plans for the future and
the Professor encouraged him in this.  The two men sat and discussed it
whenever the Professor was free, with Mrs Wright chipping in from time to
time.  She had enjoyed her holiday too and Emily, thinking about it, supposed
that in a strange sort of way, she had as well.

Emily dressed with extreme care that evening.  The whole family would be
there and just a few friends--close friends, Mevrouw Jurres-Romeijn had said,
and although she had met almost all of them at Christmas, she felt shy as she
went downstairs just before dinner.  She crossed the hall slowly and paused
outside the drawing room door and jumped out of her skin at the Professor's
soft voice.

"Scared, Emily?"

She whizzed round then and saw him standing in the open doorway of his study,
watching her.

She had to do something to give her heart the chance to steady itself.  She
put a hand up to her neat brown head and gave it a reassuring pat.

 "Not in the least," she assured him frostily.

"Oh, good."  He shut the door behind him and came to stand beside her.

"Because I am-- the whole family, you know--rather a lot to swallow at one
go."

"Oh, what nonsense!"  cried Emily, wanting to giggle at the idea of the
Professor being afraid of anyone.

"I don't believe you've been scared of anything or anyone in the whole of
your life."

"You're wrong.  There's one thing I'm very afraid of: that the girl I want to
marry won't have me."

Emily studied her shoes so that her face would have time to compose itself.

"Of course she will--' she added involuntarily: " She's so very pretty.  "

The Professor looked taken aback.

"Who is?"  he asked with deep interest.

"Well, Heleen, of course."  Emily took a step nearer the door.

"Oughtn't we to go in?"

He ignored that.

"You are still determined to carve yourself a career?"

She fixed her eyes on his waistcoat, thinking to herself that she was glad
that he wore conventional evening clothes, beautifully cut.

"Yes," she said at length.

"You have no wish to marry and have a family?"

She didn't answer and after a moment the Professor uttered a satisfied "Aha!"
caught her  close in a grip which almost pulverised her rib cage and kissed
her with force.

"You remember that, my girl," he said softly, and opened the door and swept
her inside.

CHAPTER NINE

the room seemed full of people, and Emily, aware that she had met them all at
Christmas and the New Year and ought to remember their names, smiled
uncertainly.  She had a fine flush by reason of the Professor's savage
kissing and any of her nursing friends would have declared her to be in a
state of shock.  She was aware, too, of the Professor's hand holding her
firmly by the arm just as though he had guessed that for one moment she had
entertained the childish idea of turning tail and making for the door again.
It was a relief when after a second of silence everyone started to talk at
once, converging on the Professor as he made his way to where his grandmother
sat in state, her injured ankle on a footstool, the grey chiffon draperies
arranged becomingly about her small person.  She put up her delicately
made-up face for his kiss, thanked him for his gift, and turned to Emily.

"You look very pretty, Emily, if I were a man I would fall head over heels in
love with you," she chuckled, 'and certainly when you blush so charmingly!
Thank you for your gift, my dear.  I shall use them and remember you.  " She
put 207  out a hand and caught Emily's.

"I'm going to miss you very much.  You suit this house, you know."

"It's a very beautiful house," said Emily carefully.

"I shall miss it too."

"But not so much that she is prevented from carving herself a career,"

remarked the Professor crossly, so that she gave him a startled look.

Really, it was impossible to make head or tail of the man!  Not that it
mattered, she reminded herself silently.

"I'm wearing the diamonds," observed Mevrouw Jurres-Romeijn, and that
surprised Emily too, for the old lady wasn't given to boasting about her
possessions; she accepted them as a matter of course.

"They go to Renter's wife when I die."

"Who's talking of dying on your birthday?"  demanded her grandson.

"And here come?  the champagne so that we can toast you."

A tuneful kind of toast it was too, Emily discovered, with everyone raising
their glasses and bursting into song.  She managed to make out the words too,
for the Professor was bellowing them in a rich baritone voice: "Long zai ze
leven," so Emily sang as well, even managing the bit about 'in de gloria'
while the old lady sat in her chair and beamed at everyone wishing that she
should live long in glory.

They went into dinner after that and Emily  found that she had Doctor Wright
on one side of her and Franz on the other.

"And I'm sorry," she told him kindly, 'that you have to have me instead of
that beauty you brought with you.  "

Franz laughed at her.

"I'll tell you a secret; I asked Renier if I could sit next to you, you see.
You're the only girl I know who enjoys her food and doesn't rabbit on about
raw carrots and calories.  You've no idea how trying it is when one is made
to feel guilty at enjoying a good square meal!"

And Emily, a kind-hearted girl, obliged him by eating each delicious course
with just the right amount of enthusiasm, although in truth she had no
appetite at all and everything she ate tasted of sawdust.

There were some twenty-four people at table and she knew most of them
slightly.  The Professor, with his grandmother on his right, sat at the head
of the vast table, and his sister Evelina, acting as his hostess, was at the
foot; aunts, uncles, cousins and family friends were ranged on either side,
and everyone was talking.  Emily found time to look around the ladies
present, all splendidly dressed if not entirely fashionable, but Franz's
girl-friend and some of the younger cousins made up for that in their silver
tissue trouser suits, layered chiffons and slinky tunics.  Emily felt herself
to be not entirely fashionable either, and then was happily  reassured by
Franz's cheerful: "You look very nice, Emily.  I don't like girls in
trousers--not in the evening--nor does Renier."  Heleen, she had already
observed, was wearing an orange and silver tissue tunic and trousers; she
looked stunning, and her pleasure was dimmed at once by the thought that
Renier probably made an exception in Heleen's case.  Certainly he looked at
her a great deal during the evening, and Emily couldn't blame him--Heleen was
devastatingly pretty; Louisa would look like that when she had finished with
the modelling school.

"You're not listening," said Franz in her ear, and she gave him a guilty look
and then smiled because he was smiling too.  He was really very like Renier,
if only Renier would smile more often.

Dinner lasted a long time, with speeches and toasts and finally the birthday
cake to cut and the entire household staff invited in to share it and drink
champagne with everyone else, while Mevrouw Jurres-Romeijn sat smiling and
nodding like a happy child.

Presently she went to bed, carried upstairs by her grandson.  As he sat her
down carefully in her chair she said suddenly: "She won't come for the
diamonds, dear boy."

The Professor didn't look in the least put out.  "No, I know that.

Grandmother, but she will come for love, but she has to discover that for 
herself.  " He bent and kissed her.

"Goodnight, my dear."  He smiled down at the elderly face.  "You're a
matchmaker, aren't you?"

She nodded.

"I should like you to be happy, Renier, and I have always cherished a wish to
be a great-grandmother."

"I shall do my best, my dear."

Emily, naturally unaware of this interesting conversation, stayed with Franz,
who had taken her under his wing for the evening, shepherding her from one
group to another, making it easy for her to talk to everyone, keeping her so
occupied that she didn't get near the Professor for the rest of the evening,
and he for his part evinced no wish to single her out for conversation.  She
hadn't really expected it, but she did wish that he would be consistent in
his manner towards her.  These unexpected and exciting encounters were
delightful, but they would have been easier to cope with if he were easy in
his manner towards her for the rest of the time.  She watched him now,
chatting up Heleen.  The wretched girl was waving her false eyelashes at him
in a most ridiculous manner.  Emily, who had very adequate eyelashes of her
own, turned her back on the pair of them.

The last day was spent in a visit to the hospital with Doctor Wright where
the Professor, looking every inch a man of his calling, treated her with a
cool civility which made her wish for a cap  and uniform.  He had nothing to
say to her that wasn't purely professional and bade her goodbye with a
careless: "See you later," which left her peevish and unhappy.  And at dinner
that evening the conversation was almost entirely taken up by the route they
should take back to England and innumerable messages for mutual friends.
Emily, in the velvet skirt and one of the new blouses, had the unpleasant
feeling that she was surplus to the occasion; not that she was neglected or
ignored in any way, perhaps, she told herself, she was imagining it all.
Certainly she felt shy and awkward, in consequence of which her manner was
alternately stiff and then, in an effort to appear quite at her ease, much
too chatty.

They were to leave during the following afternoon, in time to board the night
ferry from the Hock, and Emily spent a bad night, alternately terrified that
the Professor wouldn't do as he had promised and be home to see them on their
way, and heartbroken because even if he did, she wasn't going to see him
again afterwards.  She went down to breakfast to find him on the point of
leaving the house, but he paused just long enough to ask her why she looked
like something the tide had washed up.

"Worrying about the trip?"  he asked with brisk kindness.

"No need; you're a good driver and Mrs Wright will be beside you."  He eyed
her  narrowly.

"Or are you over-excited at the prospect of getting back to work?"

"How you do harp on that!"  she snapped.

"But my dear girl, it's your whole future."

She longed to yell at him that she had no choice.  Unlike Louisa and Heleen
she had no looks to speak of and no smart chat to intrigue him.  She sighed
deeply without knowing it and didn't see him grin.

"I've had a lovely time here," she told him rather primly.

"Thank you very much.

Professor.  "

He said on a sigh: "Renier.  We have enjoyed having you.  Grandmother is
going to miss you and.  without you I doubt very much if the Wrights would
have come on their own.  You'll be staying with Louisa?"

She remembered that he had asked her already.

"No."

"Well, I must be going; I've a host of outpatients.  By the way, which branch
of nursing do you plan to speciali se in?"

She stared at him, her mind an unfortunate blank.

"I--I haven't decided."

He nodded carelessly.

"Enjoy your morning."

Emily was left to her solitary breakfast; the Wrights having theirs in their
room so that Doctor Wright might rest as much as possible.

Renier arrived punctually for lunch which they ate without haste, making
plans for the next  visit.

"When are you coming to England?"  asked Maud Wright.

The Professor shrugged.

"There are two cases I have to see within the next few weeks, but I don't
expect to stay any length of time neither of them are operable, I believe.  I
go to Brussels tomorrow."

Emily listened in deepening gloom.  She hadn't expected to see Renier again,
but she hadn't been able to stifle a tiny hope that she might be wrong.  Now
it seemed that the remote chance could be scotched.

The actual leave taking took but a few minutes.  They had been packed and
ready with the baggage already stowed, so that all that there remained to do
was to put on coats and hats and get into the car.  Hans and Bep were in the
hall as they came downstairs, to shake their hands and wish them a good
journey, but they melted into the background as Renier came out of his study.
He kissed Maud Wright, shook the doctor by the hand and then turned to
Emily.  For a glorious moment she thought that he would kiss her too, but he
didn't, only offered a hand in a quick, impersonal handshake, and went to the
door with them.  Emily didn't look back as she drove away, nor did she wave,
and Mrs Wright, after one look at her pale face, talked cheerful nothings for
the next ten minutes or so.

 Emily wasn't sure how she got through the next day or two.  She had already
refused the Wrights' invitation to stay a couple of nights with them while
she found herself somewhere to live, but when Dolly rang up while she was
still at the Wrights' house having lunch before she went on her way, it was
impossible to refuse her offer of a room for the night.

"And Peter will fetch you," said Dolly.

"He'll be with you in half an hour."

Emily had been grateful not to have to go to an hotel and they had been
kindness itself.  All the same the following morning she had cast her eyes
down the columns of the paper, made a list of likely addresses, and taken
herself off, with the promise that if she didn't find something to her liking
she would spend another night at Dolly and Peter's flat.

The first two or three places she went to were hopeless; small, sad little
rooms and not quite clean, but by lunch time she found something which would
do.  It was a top floor room in a row of Victorian houses on the edge of High
gate.  It was rather barely furnished, but the view was quite nice and it was
clean.  There was a gas ring and a wash basin and a small gas fire and it
would suit well enough until she had found herself a job.  She had some
money, enough to last her a month; she paid a week's rent and arranged to go
back later that afternoon.

"I'll give you a  key," her landlady told her, 'and I hope you're a quiet
girl; I'll have no rowdiness in my house.  "

Emily assured her that she didn't much care for rowdiness herself and hoped
that Mrs Twigg wasn't going to be too much of a tartar.  Her face was stern
enough, with a pulled-down mouth and a perpetual frown.

So later on, after lunch, Emily got a taxi, said goodbye to Dolly and went
off to High gate, with the earnest request that neither she nor Peter would
tell anyone where she had gone.

"Why ever not?"  Dolly had asked, and then: "Oh, you mean Renier.  Look,
dear, tell you what don't tell me the address, then I can say with truth that
I don't know where you are not that we expect him, though he does pop up
unexpectedly from time to time."  She had added: "But you will tell someone,
won't you?  Your sister Mary?  I mean, supposing you're taken ill, I'd never
forgive myself."

Emily promised, just as she promised to meet Dolly one day for coffee.  And
she would, although she felt sure that very soon they would forget her,
especially if they didn't know where she was.  It was like starting a new
life, she told herself, as she unpacked her few things and sat down to write
to Mary.  She found the idea so depressing that presently she cried herself
to sleep.

She spent the next two days job-hunting; it  should have been easy enough;
she was a trained nurse with good experience, but her own hospital
regretfully told her that they couldn't take on any more staff because there
was a shortage of money, and that was the case with the next two hospitals as
well.  There was a staff nurse vacancy at the fourth hospital she applied to,
but it was in the East End with no living-in accommodation and getting to and
fro would be too much of a problem.  On the third morning she went to an
agency, where she was offered several private cases, all outside London, as
well as night duty in a nursing home.

"Can you speak Arabic?"  asked the woman in the office, and when Emily
uttered a surprised: "Well, no," was told that she might not suit.

She left the place feeling depressed and a little frightened and to cheer
herself up, telephoned Louisa's flat.  But her sister, although she sounded
pleased to hear her, didn't suggest that they might meet--indeed, Louisa
didn't ask what Emily was doing or where she was living.  Emily stood with
the receiver in her hand after Louisa's hurried goodbye, staring at nothing
in particular, until a man with a cross face banged on the door, frowning
impatiently.  He brushed past her, ignoring her apologies, and she wandered
along aimlessly, trying to decide what she should do.

She had several weeks in which to find work,  of course, but she didn't want
to stay in High gate for longer than necessary; a room in the nurses' home at
one of the big hospitals was infinitely preferable.  She paused at a
bookstall and bought the Nursing Times and the Nursing Mirror and got on a
bus and walking the last street or two, she bought a bag of apples and a
bottle of milk.  She wasn't hungry, but she would have to have a meal.  Later
on, she would go out and get herself some supper, something in a tin which
she could warm up on the gas ring.  It began to rain as she turned into the
road where she had her room; cold, heavy rain so that by the time she reached
the door her face was wet and her hair sleeked under her woolly cap.  She
went slowly upstairs, clutching the apples and the milk bottle, unlocked her
door and went in.

There was only one comfortable chair in the room, and Renier was sitting in
it.  Emily made a funny little sound, half sob, half laugh, dumped the milk
on a chair, allowed the apples to fall to the floor and said in a whisper:
"How did you get in?"  She took a breath and added: "Mrs Twigg doesn't like
visitors, or--or rowdiness.  .  ."

He had got out of the chair and was standing in the middle of the room,
making it look much smaller than it was.

"Now when have I ever been rowdy?"  he asked mildly.

Emily wasn't going to be sidetracked.

"How  did you know?"  She took off her wet cap and threw it down beside the
milk.

"I asked Dolly not to tell."

He nodded.

"And Dolly, bless her, told me that she had asked you to give Mary your
address so I rang Mary."

She was unbuttoning her coat with cold fingers and he crossed the room and
pushed her hands gently away and took off her coat.

"Why?"  she asked.

The coat followed the cap.  Renier's arms encircled her.

"I love you," he said quietly.

"I've loved you for a long time now weeks and weeks, and I was beginning to
think that you would never love me, always flinging Heleen in my teeth and
going on for ever and ever about your career."  He bent his head and kissed
her lengthily and would have gone on even longer if she hadn't wriggled a
little away from him so that she could see his face.

"Look, it won't work... Oh, Renier, I love you too, but I'm not right for you
I mean, just think of Heleen.  .."

She wasn't allowed to continue; he kissed her again.

"I have no wish to think of Heleen or anyone else, only you, my darling
Emily.  I wanted to make you jealous, and surely you wouldn't deny a man the
right to choose his own wife."

"You let me come back to England."

 "What else could I do?  Kidnap you?  Lock you in the cellars?  And if I had
asked you to marry me you would have refused out of hand, under the
impression, I suppose, that you were doing me and Heleen, or any other girl
for that matter, a good turn."

"Well--yes, perhaps.  You see, I didn't know you loved me, Renier."

"You never gave me the chance to tell you, my darling."  He stretched up and
pulled her down on |J to his knee.

"I'll do it now, before we throw your things into your case and go back to my
flat."

Emily sat up, but he pushed her head gently against his shoulder.

"We must make a few plans, my love; we'll marry just as soon as I can arrange
it."

"But what about Mary and George--and the twins...?"

"If you think that I am prepared to wait until the twins are old enough to be
your bridal attendants, then you are grossly mistaken, Emily.  Now sit still,
dearest, while I tell you what a beautiful girl you are."

Emily sighed blissfully into his shoulder.  It seemed likely that she was
going to be rushed down the nearest aisle without so much as a new hat on her
head, but somehow it didn't matter at all.  She said in a happy voice: "I'm
listening, Renier."