that’s typical of a girl living in one of these godforsaken villages—frightful clothes and so plain—then the less we leave London the better. And did you see her hands? Red, and no nail polish. Housework hands.’
‘Small, but pretty, none the less, and she had beautiful eyes.’
He glanced sideways at the perfect profile. ‘You’re very uncharitable, Sybil. Ah, here are the crossroads. Netherby is only a mile ahead of us.’
‘I never wanted to come. I hate engagement parties …’
‘I thought you enjoyed ours.’
‘That was different—now we’re only the guests.’
The house was at the end of a narrow lane. It was a large, rambling place, and the sweep before the front door was full of cars.
Sybil sat in the car, waiting for him to open the door. ‘I shall be bored stiff,’ she told him as they walked to the door, and he looked at her again. She was more than pretty, she was beautiful, with perfect features and golden hair cunningly cut. But just now she looked sulky, and her mouth was turned down at the corners. ‘That stupid girl and now this …’
But once she was inside, being greeted by their host and hostess and the various friends and acquaintances there, the sulky look was replaced by smiles and the charm she switched on like a light. She was in raptures over the engagement ring, laughed and talked, and was the picture of a dear friend delighted to join in the gossip about the wedding. At the luncheon which followed she kept her end of the table entranced by her witty talk.
‘You’re a lucky fellow, James,’ observed a quiet little lady sitting beside the rather silent man. ‘Sybil is a lovely young woman, and so amusing too. When do you intend to marry?’
He smiled at her. ‘Sybil is in no hurry, and in any case we’re short-staffed at the hospital. I doubt if I could find the time. She wants a big wedding, which I understand takes time and organising.’
Kind, elderly eyes studied his face. There was something not quite right, but it was none of her business. ‘Tell me, I hear that there is a scheme to open another ward.?’
‘Yes, for premature babies. It’s still being discussed, but we need more incubators.’
‘You love your work, don’t you?’
‘Yes.’
She saw that she wasn’t going to be told more and asked idly if he had enjoyed the drive down from town.
‘Yes, it’s a different world, isn’t it? Last time I saw you, you were making a water garden. Is it finished?’
They turned to their neighbours presently, and then everyone left the table to stand around talking, or walked in the large formal garden, and it was there that Sybil found him presently.
‘Darling, we simply must leave. I’m so bored. Say that you take a clinic this evening and that you have to be back by seven o’clock.’ When he looked at her, she added, ‘Oh, darling, don’t look like that. It’s such a stuffy party.’
She had a lovely smile, so he smiled back and went in search of their hostess.
Having got her own way, Sybil was at her most charming self, keeping up amusing talk as they drove back to London. As he slowed through Nether Ditchling she said with a laugh, ‘Oh, this is the place where we talked to that plain girl with the sausages. What a dull life she must lead. Shall we be back in time to have dinner together somewhere I can dress up? I bought the loveliest outfit the other day—I’ll wear it.’
‘I must disappoint you, Sybil. I’ve a pile of paperwork, and I want to check a patient at the hospital.’
She pouted prettily, clever enough to know that he wasn’t to be persuaded. She put a hand on his knee. ‘Never mind, darling. Let me know when you can spare an evening and we’ll go somewhere special.’
He drove her to her parents’ flat in Belgravia and went straight to the hospital—where he forgot her, the luncheon party and the long drive, becoming at once engrossed in the progress of his small patient. But he didn’t forget the girl with the sausages. That they would meet again was something he felt in his very bones, and he was content to wait until that happened.
March had come in like a lamb and it was certainly going out like a lion. Winter had returned, with wind and rain and then the warning of heavy snow. Professor James Forsyth, on his morning round one Saturday morning, was called to the phone. ‘An urgent message,’ Sister had told him.
It was Sybil. ‘James, darling, you’re free this afternoon and tomorrow, aren’t you? I simply must go to Netherby. I’ve bought a present for Coralie and Greg and it’s too large to send. Will you be an angel and drive me down this afternoon? I promise you we won’t stay, and we can come straight back and dine somewhere. I thought tomorrow we might go to Richmond Park. The Denvers are always inviting us to lunch and I’m dying to see their new house.’
Professor Forsyth frowned. ‘Sybil, I have asked you not to phone me at the hospital unless it is an urgent matter.’
‘Darling, but this is urgent. I mean, how am I to get this wretched present down to Netherby unless you drive me there?’ She added with a wistful charm which was hard to resist, ‘Please, James.’
‘Very well, I’ll drive you down there and back. But I can’t take you to dinner this evening and I need Sunday to work on a lecture I’m due to give.’
He heard her murmured protest and then, ‘Of course, darling, I quite understand. And thank you for finding the time for poor little me. Will you fetch me? I’ll have an early lunch. I can be ready at one o’clock.’
As they left London behind them the dark day became darker, with unbroken cloud and a rising wind. Their journey was half done when the first idle snowflakes began to fall, and by the time they were driving through Nether Ditchling it was snowing in earnest.
Sybil, who had been at her most charming now that she had got what she wanted, fell silent.
‘Will ten minutes or so be enough for you to deliver your gift? I don’t want to linger in this weather.’
She was quick to reassure him. ‘Don’t come in; I’ll only be a few minutes. I’ll explain that you have to get back to town.’
At the house she said, ‘Don’t get out, James. If you do they’ll want us to stay for tea. I’ll be very quick.’
She leaned across and kissed his cheek, got out of the car and ran up the steps to the front door, and a moment later disappeared through it.
The doctor sat back and closed his eyes. He was tired, and the prospect of a quiet day at home was very welcome. Peaceful hours in his study, making notes for his lecture, leisurely meals, time to read …
He glanced at his watch; Sybil had been gone for almost fifteen minutes. He could go and fetch her, but if he did they might find it difficult to leave quickly. He switched on the radio: Delius—something gentle and rather sad.
Sybil was sitting by the fire in her friend Coralie’s sitting room. The wedding present was open beside them and there was a tea tray between them. Another few minutes wouldn’t matter, Sybil had decided,
