She paused because he had made a sound suspiciously like a chuckle. ‘I will explain exactly what happened …’
She did so, concisely and with a brevity which did justice to her years of giving accurate reports without loss of time. When she had finished she stole a look at him, but he was staring ahead, his profile, with its forceful nose and solid chin, looked stern. Perhaps he was going to send her back after all. She conceded that she deserved it. But all he said in a mild voice was: ‘Good, that’s cleared the air, then,’ started the car again and allowed it to purr back into the stream of fast-moving traffic. ‘The hospital is in the heart of the city. It’s not new—there is a very splendid one, you must go over it while you are here—but the one in which you will work is very old indeed and although we have everything we require, it is dark and awkward. But the children are happy and that is the main thing. You will be on a sixteen-bedded ward of fibrocystics, but all the research work is done at the new hospital—St Jacobus.’
She found her voice. ‘What’s the hospital called—the one where I shall be?’
‘St Bonifacius. You’ll find that most of the staff speak English, and as for the children, I have discovered long ago that they will respond to any language provided it is spoken in the right tone of voice. Besides, there are a number of words which are so similar in both languages that I have no doubt you will get by.’
She hoped it would be as easy as it sounded. They were going slowly now through the compact little city, its winding streets lined with old houses, some of them so narrow that there was only room for a front door and a window, some so broad and solid that they should have been surrounded by parklands of their own. The streets were intersected by canals linked by narrow white bridges. She had the impression that she would be lost immediately she set foot outside the hospital door.
The silence had lasted a long time. Phoebe asked in a polite voice:
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