sighed with relief; something on the floor and some curtains at the window, and at least one room in the little house would be ready for use.
She had time for a brief nap before she went on duty, and when Dr van der Linden encountered her as he left the women’s medical ward, she looked her usual self, unshakeably calm and as neat as a new pin. His ‘Good evening, Sister,’ was uttered with impersonal politeness before he went on to discuss with her the condition of one of his patients; that he had sat and watched her cleaning furniture in an old apron and with her hair anyhow, smacked of the nonsensical, and from his manner it seemed plain to her that he had dismissed it from his mind. And why not? common sense demanded of her, while at the same time she felt a decided peevishness at his lack of friendliness.
She didn’t see him again until she was on the point of leaving the hospital five days later, with the prospect of two nights off duty, her head full of plans as to what to do first at Ivy Cottage. The last of these days fell, most fortunately, on a Saturday, which meant that all four of them would be able to work there. The sitting-room, she decided, as she changed out of her uniform; if they could do the walls and paintwork, then the carpets could be laid, and in the meantime she could start on the dining-room. They would have to move out of the house in Bick Street in less than a week’s time… She started downstairs on her way out, deep in thought.
Dr van der Linden followed her silent-footed, caught up with her on the first landing, and asked, ‘Nights off? Do you plan to go to Much Hadham today? I shall be driving there this morning. Can I give you a lift? Around ten o’clock?’
She had stopped to look at him, tired eyes from her beautiful face searching his own blue eyes, half hidden under their heavy lids.
‘Thank you,’ she said at length. ‘I did intend going there today, and I’d be grateful.’
‘Good.’ He spoke briskly. ‘I will be outside your place; if there is anything to take down there, it can go in the boot.’
Too good an opportunity to miss; Louise had a number of cardboard boxes and plastic bags tidily lined up in the little hall by the time the doctor arrived. She had seen Mike and Christine off to school, eaten a hasty breakfast with Zoë, attended to Dusty’s wants, and had a shower, so that when she opened the door to him she appeared ready for a day’s work at the cottage. He gave her a searching glance, accepted the coffee she offered, fended off Dusty’s pleased advances, and sat down for all the world as though he had the morning to waste. Louise, in a fever to get on with the manifold jobs awaiting her, and aware that if she sat still for any length of time she would fall asleep, drank her own coffee so fast that she scalded her tongue, and then sat watching him take his time over his own drink. When they were at last in the car with her boxes and bags stowed and Dusty, to his delight, on the back seat—for as Dr van der Linden had pointed out he might just as well spend the day at Ivy Cottage since they would be returning at around five o’clock and could be conveyed without trouble—he observed casually that he for his part had not the least objection to her closing her eyes and taking a refreshing nap.
‘Thank you,’ said Louise frostily, still nettled at his tardiness, ‘I am not in the least sleepy.’ And, within seconds of saying it, had nodded off.
At Ivy Cottage he wakened her gently, took the door key from her and went to open the front door. He deposited her bundles in the hall and led Dusty to the safety of the little back garden. Which gave her time to become thoroughly awake. As he ushered her from the car, he remarked in his calm way, ‘It is not of the least use advising you to get on to the nearest bed and sleep, although that is what you need more than anything else. Fortunately you are a well-built girl with plenty of stamina, even if you are of a managing disposition. I see Mr Baxter is already at work, and Ted Poolley is on his knees measuring the stairs. I have put Dusty in the garden.’
‘You have been very kind. I am sorry I was snappy, it’s just that there is so much to do…’
‘And that reminds me,’ interpolated the doctor, ‘my gardener’s grandson is staying with him—a lad of fifteen or so; he has been helping around the garden, but there is very little for him to do there at the moment and he is at a loose end. You would be rendering me a service by taking him off his grandfather’s hands for an hour or so. Don’t pay him—he has had his week’s wages in advance… His name is Tim.’
‘But I must pay him…’
‘You shall settle up later; don’t complicate things at present. He’s a handy lad; give him some painting to do.’
The doctor nodded briefly, and had taken himself off before she could argue the matter, and five minutes later a tall, skinny youth presented himself at the door. He grinned shyly.
‘Tim, miss, come to give you a hand.’
Louise was no longer tired; a great part of the day was before her, Mr Baxter was putting up shelves with the speed of light, Mr Poolley was in the dining-room now, with his ruler and notebook, and here was willing help. She beamed at Tim. ‘Can you paint?’ she asked happily.
Even with a coffee break, the four of them had got through a prodigious amount of work by one o’clock: the shelves were up, the cupboards were in position, the Aga worked and she had decided on the carpeting with Ted Poolley. It would make a big hole in the small capital, but she could economise on everything else, and he would get it laid before they moved in. The three went to their lunches, and she went into the garden and sat on a rickety garden seat and shared her sandwiches with Dusty, who was lolling happily in the unkept grass.
Mr Baxter had finished by mid-afternoon; Louise gave him a cheque and thanked him nicely. ‘Do anything for a pretty young lady like you, miss,’ mumbled Mr Baxter. ‘Just you send along if you need any jobs done.’
‘Oh, I will,’ declared Louise, and beamed widely at him; life at Much Hadham was going to be a dream after Bick Street.
She made tea for Tim and Ted Poolley, and opened the packet of biscuits she had had the forethought to bring with her. The sitting-room was very nearly finished, and since Ted had promised the carpets would be laid within the week she would be able to stay at home and make the curtains. She saw them off home presently, tidied everything away, did what she could to tidy her own person and locked up. Ted had the second key, and she wouldn’t be coming again until her last free day. She stood by the stout front door and surveyed her house with pride. Mr Baxter had seen to the windows, making them secure, and when they all came in a couple of days’ time, they would clean windows. She sighed with content and turned round in time to see the doctor’s Jaguar slide to a halt by the gate.
Dr van der Linden got out, ushered Dusty on to the back seat, stowed Louise’s bits and pieces in the boot and invited her to make herself comfortable beside him.
Louise, full of the false energy consequent on a sleepless night as well as a busy one, followed by a hard day’s work, was bright-eyed and chatty. He allowed her to run on, merely murmuring placidly when she paused for breath, and when they reached Bick Street, despite the appearance of Zoë with an invitation to stay for tea, he refused, although he qualified his refusal with the suggestion that, once the family had settled in their new home, Zoë might like to have tea with him. ‘After all, I shall be a near neighbour,’ he told her, smiling down at the small, pretty creature.
Louise saw the smile; she wasn’t at all surprised at the effect Zoë was having on the doctor. She was delightfully pretty, with a charming, unselfconscious air. Louise, in the mental no man’s land of one needing her sleep, had the pair of them in love at second sight, engaged and married even while she was bidding Dr van der Linden a polite goodbye at her door; still in the throes of romance, she watched Zoë accompany him across the narrow
