and when the doctor, with a brief nod, had gone away, she had locked the door and come upstairs to her new home.
Todd had left everything necessary for the cat’s comfort outside the door. She had opened the window onto the flat roof, arranged everything to her satisfaction and watched the cat creep cautiously through the half-open window and then back again. She’d fed him then, and made herself a cheese sandwich and a cup of coffee from the stock of food neatly stacked away in the kitchen.
The afternoon she had spent prowling round the consulting rooms, checking and re-checking; for such a magnificent wage she intended to be perfect…
The doctor had returned shortly before the first of his late patients, refused the tea she had offered to make him, and when the last one had gone he’d gone too, observing quietly that she appeared to have settled in nicely and bidding her goodnight. She had felt hurt that he hadn’t said more than that, but had consoled herself with the thought that he led a busy life and although he had given her a job and a roof over her head that was no reason why he should concern himself further.
She had spent a blissful evening doing sums and making a list of all the things she would like to buy. It was a lengthy list…
Dr Fforde had taken himself off home. There was no doubt about it, Loveday had taken to her new job like a duck to water. His patients, accustomed to Miss Priss’s austere politeness, had been made aware of the reason for her absence, and had expressed polite concern and commented on the suitability of her substitute. She might not have Miss Priss’s presence but she had a pleasant manner and a quiet voice which didn’t encroach…
He’d had an urgent call from the hospital within ten minutes of his return to his home. His work had taken over then, and for the time being, at least, he had forgotten her.
Loveday slept soundly with the cat curled up on her feet, and woke with the pleasant feeling that she was going to enjoy her day. She left the cat to potter onto the roof, which it did, while she showered and dressed and got breakfast. She wondered who had had the thoughtfulness to get several tins of cat food as she watched the little beast scoff its meal.
‘You’re beginning to look like a cat,’ she told him, ‘and worthy of a name.’ When he paused to look at her, she added, ‘I shall call you Sam, and I must say that it is nice to have someone to talk to.’
She made him comfortable on the woolly, left the window open and went down to the consulting room.
It was still early, and there was no one about except the porter, who wished her a cheerful good morning. ‘Put your rubbish out on a Friday,’ he warned her. ‘And will you be wanting milk?’
‘Yes, please. Does the milkman call?’
‘He does. I’ll get him to leave an extra pint and I’ll put it outside your door.’
She thanked him and unlocked the waiting room door. For such a magnificent sum the doctor deserved the very best attention; she dusted and polished, saw to the flowers in their vases, arranged the post just so on his desk, got out the patients’ notes for the day and put everything ready to make coffee. That done, she went and sat by the open window and watched the quiet street below. When the Bentley whispered to a halt below she went and sat down behind her desk in the corner of the room.
The doctor, coming in presently, glanced at her as he wished her a brisk good morning and sighed with silent relief. She hadn’t been putting on a show yesterday; she really was composed and capable, sitting there sedately, ready to melt into the background until she was wanted.
He paused at his door. ‘Any problems? You are quite comfortable upstairs?’
‘Yes, thank you, and there are no problems. Would you like coffee? It’ll only take a minute.’
‘Please. Would you bring it in?’
Since she made no effort to attract attention to herself he forgot her, absorbed in his patients, but remembered as he left to visit those who were housebound or too ill to come and see him, to wish her good morning and advise her that he would be back during the afternoon.
Loveday, eating her lunchtime sandwich, leaning out of the window watching Sam stretched out in the autumn sunshine, told the cat about the morning’s work, the patients who had come, and the few bad moments she had had when she had mislaid some notes.
‘I found them, luckily,’ she explained to him. ‘I can’t afford to slip up, can I, Sam? I don’t wish Miss Priss to be too worried about her mother, but I do hope she won’t come back until I’ve saved some money and found a job where you’ll be welcome.’
Sam paused in his wash and brush-up and gave her a look. He was going to be a handsome cat, but he wasn’t young any more, so a settled life would suit him down to the ground. He conveyed his feelings with a look, and Loveday said, ‘Yes, I know, Sam. But I’ll not part with you, I promise.’
At the end of the week she found an envelope with her wages on her desk, and when she thanked the doctor he said, ‘I’ll be away for the weekend. You’ll be here in the morning? Take any phone calls, and for anything urgent you can reach me at the number on my desk. Set the answering-machine when you leave. I have a patient at half past nine on Monday morning.’ At the door he paused. ‘I hope you have a pleasant weekend.’
At noon on Saturday she locked the consulting rooms and went to her little flat. With Sam on her lap she made a shopping list, ate her lunch and, bidding him to be a good boy, set off to the nearest shops. The porter had told her that five minutes’ walk away there were shops which should supply her needs. ‘Nothing posh,’ he said. ‘Been there for years, they have, very handy, too.’
She soon found them, tucked away behind the rather grand houses: the butcher, the baker, the greengrocer, all inhabiting small and rather shabby shops, but selling everything she had on her list. There was a newsagent too, selling soft drinks, chocolates and sweets, and with a shelf of second-hand books going cheap.
Loveday went back to her flat and unpacked her carrier bags. She still wasn’t sure when she could get out during the day, and had prudently stocked up with enough food to last for several days. That done, she sat down to her tea and made another list—clothes, this time. They were a pipe dream at the moment, but there was no harm in considering what she would buy once she had saved up enough money to spend some of it.
It was very quiet in the house. Todd had locked up and gone home, and the place would be empty now until he came again around six o’clock on Monday morning. Loveday wasn’t nervous; indeed she welcomed the silence after Miss Cattell’s voice raised unendingly in demands and complaints. She washed her hair and went to bed early, with Sam for company.
She went walking on Sunday, to St James’s Park and then Hyde Park, stopping for coffee on the way. It was a chilly day but she was happy. To be free, with money in her purse and a home to go back to—what more could she ask of life? she reflected. Well, quite a bit, she conceded—a husband, children and a home…and to be loved.
‘A waste of time,’ said Loveday, with no one to hear her. ‘Who would want to marry me in the first place and how would I ever meet him?’
She walked on briskly. He would have to love her even though she wasn’t pretty, and preferably have enough money to have a nice home and like children. Never mind what he looked like…She paused. Yes, she did mind—he would need to be tall and reassuringly large, and she wouldn’t object to him wearing specs on his handsome nose…
‘You’re
