only to be for a week or two and although he said he could make it all right with Matron, I was a bit doubtful about her wanting me back. But now I suppose there’s nothing for me to go back to.’ She went and put an arm through her cousin’s. ‘I’ll go and find out now. Would you mind if I did go? There’s an awful lot to do here, you know.’
Cousin Maud, who had been doing it for years, agreed a little drily, ‘But it’s time Mandy and Phil helped out a little more, and you haven’t had a holiday for years—not that this job sounds much like a holiday, but at least it will be a change of scene.’
Gemma mulled over her cousin’s words as she cycled along the lanes and forgot them when she saw the charred ruins of the hospital. It really had been badly damaged; true, the Victorian extension at the back had escaped more or less intact, but it had never been used as wards for the patients; the rooms were poky and dark and there were any number of small staircases which the old ladies would never have managed. Gemma propped her bike against a tree and went round to the back and through a door which looked as though it belonged to a church but led instead to a narrow, damp passage leading to the back hall. It was here that Matron had her flat. Gemma knocked on the door and was relieved to hear Matron’s voice bidding her go in, for she remembered then, a little late in the day, that she had gone to the Rectory. But Matron was there, all right, in uniform too, looking calm and collected, just as though the hospital hadn’t been burned around her ears only a few hours earlier.
She looked up as Gemma went in and smiled at her. ‘Sister Prentice, I’m glad you’ve come. I’ve been hearing about this job you’ve been offered—at least one of my staff won’t be out of work.’
Gemma took the chair she had been waved to. ‘You mean the hospital can’t be rebuilt?’
Matron nodded. ‘I’m almost sure of it. There’s only been a preliminary survey, of course, but any idiot can see that it would need rebuilding completely—what a splendid chance for the Hospital Board, who have been wanting to close us down for months, but of course something will have to be done, the other hospitals can’t absorb our old ladies permanently. At the moment they’re distributed around the area, but a handful of them will be able to come to Vicar’s Place—a large empty house some miles away. I don’t know yet, for no one has said anything, but I hope that I shall be asked to go there as Matron until such time as larger premises can be found—probably years. I shall only need two nurses there, for it won’t take more than ten patients.’ She smiled at Gemma. ‘It will take a very long time to settle, Sister Prentice, and I doubt if I can offer you even the prospect of a job.’ She added bracingly: ‘You could get a post in London very easily, you know—your references are excellent.’
Gemma shook her head. ‘That wouldn’t do at all, Matron. This job was marvellous, it meant that I could live at home, you see—there are so many of us and it’s not fair that Cousin Maud should have to manage alone.’
Matron agreed: ‘Yes, of course. Well, shall we leave things as they are and you could come and see me when you get back.’
It was a little vague, but Gemma could see that there wasn’t much to be done at the moment. She agreed without demur and asked after her patients.
‘Scattered round half a dozen hospitals, but unharmed, I’m glad to say. Their resilience is remarkable, isn’t it? I wonder how many of them realized how near death they were—and several of them owe their lives to you and Professor Dieperink van Berhuys. We are all most grateful to you…’
Gemma went pink. ‘The professor was wonderful, but I didn’t do much, Matron.’ She got up. ‘I’m not sure if I shall go to Holland…’ She wished she hadn’t said that because Matron looked so surprised, so she added hastily: ‘I’ll let you know, shall I?’
It had been silly to say that, she admitted to herself as she went back home at her leisure, because of course she was sure; she was going. It would be a nice change from the old ladies, bless them. Besides, she was curious about the professor; she wanted to know exactly what work he did and where he lived and what his family was like. She wheeled her bike into the back garden and went indoors, frowning a little. She mustn’t get too curious; curiosity was one thing, getting too interested was another.
The professor called round that evening, giving her an affable nod as he seated himself, at the twins’ urgent request, at the kitchen table so that he might give them the benefit of his knowledge concerning the more complicated aspects of the algebra they were struggling with.
It wasn’t until he had solved the knottier of the problems that he looked up to say: ‘I’m returning to Holland in three days’ time, Gemma—will you be coming with me?’
She glanced round her. The entire family had found its way into the kitchen by now, each of them apparently absorbed in some task which simply had to be done there, although Cousin Maud was just sitting doing nothing at all, looking at her. All of them were listening so hard for her answer that she could almost hear them doing it. She said ‘yes’, and then, because it had sounded rather terse: ‘Thank you, Professor.’
‘Thank you, Gemma,’ he answered gravely, and then with an abrupt change of manner, added cheerfully: ‘How about all of us gathering round the table for this?’
They had all talked at once after that; they were a united family and each member of it considered that he or she had every right to add their say to the matter. It was the professor who made sense of and produced order out of the spate of suggestions, speculations and improbable advice which was offered. Over cups of cocoa and the total disintegration of the cake which Cousin Maud had only just taken out of the oven, it was decided that Gemma should go to Salisbury in the morning to get a visitor’s passport and replenish her wardrobe, but when she mentioned going to the bank to get some Dutch money, the professor pointed out that that would be quite unnecessary, for she would be paid a salary and he would advance any money she might need when they arrived in Holland.
‘How much are you going to pay her?’ George wanted to know, and was instantly shushed by his elders.
‘Exactly the same as she receives here,’ the professor told him. He looked across at Gemma. ‘That is if you find that an agreeable arrangement?’
‘Yes, thank you.’ She tried to sound as businesslike as he did, but instead her voice sounded a little ungracious, but he didn’t seem to notice, only smiled a little and presently got up to go.
As he sauntered to the door he turned to say carelessly over his shoulder: ‘I have business in Salisbury—I’ll give you a lift. Will nine o’clock suit you?’
As soon as he had gone, Mandy made a pot of tea and they all gathered round again. Gemma hadn’t been away for a holiday for a long time—true, this trip to Holland wasn’t exactly that, but it was abroad, and as such, an event. Her wardrobe was discussed at length by her sisters and cousin while the boys pored over an atlas, offering occasional unhelpful advice as to what she should take with her. Her sisters had more to say, though: Gemma had nice clothes, but not—they were emphatic about that—enough. Living in a small village with not much opportunity of going out, she tended to buy serviceable, even if nice, things and make them last far too long. She was quick to take Phil’s point that the professor’s family might live in the middle of a town and be most frightfully fashionable, in which case she would feel quite out of things. The matter was clinched by Mandy’s dreamy: ‘He wears the most super clothes himself, you know, and I bet they’re wildly expensive—you must have something new, Gemma darling.’
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