she had taken that for granted. She would have like to have asked him if he had any children, but she had already formed the impression that his private life was very much his own business.
They took a taxi back to George Henry’s house after that, but the doctor, politely opening the door for her, refused her invitation to come in, pleading an evening engagement and wishing her a pleasantly impersonal goodbye as he went. Christina stood in the hall, listening to the coughs and murmurs coming from the waiting room, already stuffed with the evening surgery patients. She felt as though a door, briefly opened on to another world, had been gently but inexorably closed again.
‘It’s not my world anyway,’ she reminded herself sensibly, and went upstairs to change the grey suit for a skirt and jumper and then went along to the kitchen to see about supper.
Hilary came that evening and displayed an unflattering amazement that anyone should want to take Christina to the Ritz for tea. She said, her rather prominent blue eyes narrowed: ‘Well, really, whatever next? Was he trying to impress you?’
Christina considered the question. ‘No—he’s not that kind of man. I think it was because the Ritz was close by and it was tea time and I had to fill in a form. We had to have a table, you see.’
Hilary gave her a suspicious glance, but Christina appeared to be serious, so she gave a reluctant nod. ‘Dead set on this job, aren’t you? Supposing you hate it when you’re there?’
Christina allowed herself a silent giggle. Hilary’s face showed very plainly that she wished she hadn’t said that; supposing Christina said that she would return home and expect to live with her and George Henry until she found another job to suit her? She said gently: ‘Well, you know, Hilary, I’m a bit slow about making up my mind about places and people—other people know within seconds if they like something or someone, but not me.’ She remembered very clearly that she had known within a second that she liked Adam, but of course there was always the exception to every rule… ‘I shall enjoy the experience,’ she finished.
Hilary agreed with eager enthusiasm and hardly concealed her pleasure when Christina mentioned that it wasn’t likely that she would be at the wedding. George Henry, Christina decided, must be very in love not to notice, but that was a good thing. She was a firm believer in love, herself unloved.
‘You won’t come back,’ observed Hilary in a satisfied voice.
‘Probably not, and certainly not to London.’ Christina beamed at them both. ‘Have you decided what you would like for a present?’ she asked.
Dr ter Brandt came for her at noon the next day, keeping the taxi waiting outside while he chatted amiably with George Henry, who had just come in from an emergency call. Which gave Christina time to take another quick look at herself in the old-fashioned wardrobe mirror. She was wearing the suit again because it seemed suitable in the elegant company of the doctor, and she wondered where they were to lunch.
She hadn’t included Claridge’s in her guessing. She got out of the taxi and looked up at its solid imposing front, then she looked at the doctor.
‘Will I do for a place like this?’ she asked simply.
He looked her up and down very deliberately. ‘Very well indeed,’ he assured her, and she said matter-of-factly:
‘Oh, that’s all right, then. I shouldn’t like to let you down.’
They had a table by the window again, shown to it by the manager of the restaurant, who greeted the doctor with the smiling respect due to a regular visitor. There was a band playing softly somewhere and the restaurant was elegant and quiet. Christina sighed as she sat down.
‘This is very delightful,’ she observed, ‘and a bit exciting to me. I expect you come here a lot?’
‘From time to time. What would you like to drink?’ And when she hesitated: ‘A dry sherry would give us an appetite, if you’d care for that?’
‘Please.’ She added with disarming frankness: ‘I don’t know much about drinks.’
‘Then you’ll allow me to guide you.’ He took the menu he had been offered and glanced across at her, already studying hers.
‘I’m famished,’ he told her placidly. ‘I shall have a steak, but how about a starter? Avocado, perhaps?’ and when she agreed, relieved to have some guidance through the enormous selection of food, ‘If you like fish, I can recommend the salmon, or perhaps lobster?’
‘Salmon, please.’ She wasn’t absolutely sure what you did with a lobster. She sat back and looked around her and the doctor looked at her. She had self-possession, that was evident, and no pretence. He had expected her to tell him that she didn’t know what to do with a lobster and he was quite disappointed because she hadn’t. She wasn’t gauche, he decided, merely deprived of the usual opportunities most girls had of going out and picking up these useful pieces of information. He would warn Adam not to make the mistake of taking her to a second class restaurant again. She would be able to cope with Buckingham Palace if necessary because she had sense and natural good manners and an honesty which he found rather touching. He couldn’t think of any of his women friends, offhand, who would have stopped outside a restaurant in order to ask if they would do.
He elaborated upon the job she had applied for while they ate their way through the most delicious lunch she had ever tasted, and watching the light-as-air profiteroles being piled on to her plate, she remarked: ‘It all sounds quite splendid—but the thing is, I’m so taken up with this gorgeous food I don’t think I’m appreciating it as I should.’
The doctor gave a great booming laugh. ‘Then I shall have to send you a job description leaflet when I get back.’
Which reminded her to ask: ‘You’re going this evening?’
‘Yes, I must.’ He didn’t tell her that he had stayed another day so that he might take her out to lunch. He had been sorry for her, but he wasn’t any more. She was one of those calm, sensible girls who didn’t allow themselves to become flustered. Adam would try and charm her out of that calmness, but Duert doubted if he would succeed. He would make sure that he didn’t anyway; she was too nice a girl to have her heart broken by the carefree Adam. There were plenty of girls who could play his game and not get hurt. The doctor, whose own tastes ran to sophisticated women whose witty conversation kept him mildly amused and who were never surprised or excited about anything at all, glanced at Christina with puzzled eyes. There was absolutely nothing about this dab of a girl to interest him, so why had he taken her out to lunch? To save her from the disappointment of not seeing Adam, he supposed idly.
‘Adam will be back tomorrow,’ he told her, and watched her face light up. ‘He has only three more weeks here; you will be quite at home in den Haag by then.’
She poured their coffee with a steady hand while she contemplated her exciting future. ‘So I shall,’ she told him. ‘When will I know? I have to resign…’
‘Oh, do that tomorrow, will you?’ and at her look of surprise, ‘I’ve recommended you for the post and I’m the director of the hospital, so the job’s yours, Christina. Let me know when you can come and I’ll arrange to have you met. You’ll need a passport, of course; I’ll see about your work permit. Have you enough money for your fare or would you like an advance?’
‘I’ve enough, thank you.’
‘Good—well, we’ll see how you get on, shall
