rude; I didn’t mean it to be, only I feel a little uncertain about—well, everything.’
He sat relaxed behind the wheel. ‘That’s natural, but it won’t last.’ His mouth curved in a smile. ‘You look nice.’
Her spirits rose; she smiled widely and never noticed Steven’s Mini as it passed them. She had forgotten all about him, for the moment, at least.
The morning was fun. They chose the furniture for Mrs Brown with care, going from one dealer to the other, until it only remained for them to buy curtains and carpets. They stood outside the rather seedy little shop where Sarah had happily bargained for the sort of easy chair she knew Mrs Brown would like.
‘We’ll go to Harrods,’ said the doctor.
She looked at him with pitying horror. ‘Harrods? Don’t you know that it’s a most expensive shop? Anyway, it’ll be shut today. There’s a shop in the Commercial Road …’
Mindful of the doctor’s pocket, she bought pink material for the curtains, and because it was quite cheap, some extra material for a tablecloth. She bought a grey carpet too, although she thought it far too expensive and said so, but apparently Dr van Elven had set his heart on it. When they were back in the car she pointed out to him that he had spent a great deal of money.
‘How much?’ he queried lazily.
She did some mental sums. ‘A hundred and eighty-two pounds, forty-eight pence. If it hadn’t been for the carpet …’
He said gravely, ‘I think I can manage that—who will make the curtains?’
‘I’ll do those—I can borrow Kate’s machine and run them up in an hour or so. They cost a great deal to have made, you know.’ She paused. ‘Dr van Elven …’
‘Hugo.’
‘Well, Hugo—it’s quite a lot of money. I’d like—that is, do you suppose …’
He had drawn up at traffic lights. ‘No, I don’t suppose anything of the sort, Sarah.’
She subsided, feeling awkward, and looked out of the window, to say in some surprise, ‘This is Newgate Street, isn’t it? We can’t get back to St Edwin’s this way, can we?’
His reply was calm. ‘We aren’t going back at the moment. I have only just realised that you’ll miss first dinner and not have time for second. I thought we might have something quick to eat, and I’ll take you back afterwards. That is, if you would like that?’
She felt that same flash of surprise again, but answered composedly.
‘Thank you, that would be nice. I’m on at two today—I had some time owing.’
They went down Holborn and New Oxford Street and then cut across to Regent Street, and stopped at the Café Royal. Sarah had often passed it and wondered, a little enviously, what it was like inside; it seemed she was to have the opportunity to find out. They went to the Grill Room, and she wasn’t disappointed; it was pretty and the mirrors were charming if a trifle disconcerting. The doctor had said ‘something quick’; she had envisaged something on toast, but on looking round her she deduced that the only thing she would get on toast would be caviare. She studied the menu card and wondered what on earth to order.
‘Something cold, I think,’ her glance flew to her watch, ‘and quick.’
Quick wasn’t quite the word to use in such surroundings, where luncheon was something to be taken in a leisurely fashion. She caught her companion’s eye and saw the gleam in its depths, but all he said was:
‘How about a crab mousse and a Bombe Pralinée after?’ He gave the order and asked, ‘Shall we have a Pernod, or is there anything else you prefer?’
‘Pernod would be lovely.’ She smiled suddenly, wrinkling her beautiful nose in the endearing and unconscious manner of a child.
‘What a pity that we haven’t hours and hours to spend over lunch.’ She stopped, vexed at the pinkening of her cheeks under his amused look. ‘What I mean is,’ she said austerely, ‘it’s the kind of place where you dawdle, with no other prospect than a little light shopping or a walk in the park before taking a taxi home.’
‘You tempt me to telephone Matron and ask her to let you have the afternoon off.’
He spoke lightly and Sarah felt a surprising regret that he couldn’t possibly mean it. ‘That sort of thing happens in novels, never in real life. I can imagine Matron’s feelings!’
They raised their glasses to Mrs Brown’s recovery, and over their drinks fell to discussing her refurbished room, which topic somehow led to a variety of subjects, which lasted right through the delicious food and coffee as well, until Sarah glanced at her watch again and said:
‘Oh, my goodness! I simply must go—the time’s gone so quickly.’
The doctor paid the bill and said comfortably:
‘Don’t worry—you won’t be late.’ And just for a moment she remembered Steven, who was inclined to fuss about getting back long before it was necessary. Dr van Elven didn’t appear to fuss at all—as little, in fact, as he did in hospital. She felt completely at ease with him, but then, her practical mind interposed, so she should; they had worked together for several years now.
They didn’t talk much going back to the hospital, but the silence was a friendly one; he wasn’t the kind of man one needed to chat to incessantly. There wasn’t much time to thank him when they arrived at the Nurses’ Home, but though of necessity brief, her thanks were none the less sincere; she really had enjoyed herself. He listened to her with a half smile and said, ‘I’m glad. I enjoyed it too. I hope I’m not trespassing too much on your good nature if I ask you to accompany Mrs Brown when I take her home.’ He saw her look and said smoothly, ‘Yes, I know she could quite well go by ambulance, but I have to return Timmy, so I can just as well call for her on my way. Would ten o’clock suit you? And by the way, I’ve found a very good woman who will go every day.’
Sarah said how nice and yes, ten o’clock would do very well, and felt a pang of disappointment that once Mrs Brown was home again there would be no need for her to give Dr van Elven the benefit of her advice any more. She stifled the thought at once; it smacked of disloyalty to Steven, even though he didn’t love her any more. She said goodbye in a sober voice, and later on, sitting in the hollow stillness of OPD, tried to pretend to herself that any minute now Steven would appear and tell her that it was all a mistake and he wasn’t going to marry Anne Binns after all. But he didn’t come—no one came at all.
The week flew by. She saw Steven several times, but never alone; she took care of that—although she thought it likely that he didn’t want to speak to her anyway. Perhaps, she thought hopefully, he was ashamed of himself, although there was no evidence of it in his face. She went out a great deal in her off-duty too—her friends saw to that; someone always seemed to be at hand to suggest the cinema or supper at Holy Joe’s. She made the curtains and the tablecloth too, and took them round on Friday evening. Hugo van Elven had said nothing to her about Mrs Brown or her room—indeed, upon reflection, she could not remember him saying anything at all that wasn’t to do with work.
Mr Ives let her in with a friendly, ‘‘Ullo, ducks.’ Sarah responded suitably and was led up the stairs, pausing on the way to admire the repair work he had done.
