breathing, blackouts…‘You will have had those, of course?’ he asked offhand, and nodded when Aunt Bess said quite meekly that yes, she had had several. ‘I shall find the site of the haemorrhage,’ said the Professor, not boastfully but as a man who was quite sure that he would, ‘repair it, and provided you do exactly as you are told, you will be as good as new within a very short space of time.’
Miss Creed considered his words. ‘It sounds reasonable enough,’ she said drowsily, ‘but I’m too tired to decide today—come and see me tomorrow.’
He put his handsome head on one side, contemplating her. ‘I should like to operate tonight,’ he told her calmly.
The lined, elderly face on the pillow lost some of its firmness. ‘Tonight?’
He nodded. ‘The sooner the better. I can arrange through Doctor Toms to have the use of the theatre at Cowper’s,’ the local cottage hospital and not so very far away. ‘You would have to remain there as a patient, but I promise you that the moment you are fit enough to move, you shall return here.’
‘Jenny?’ Miss Creed suddenly sounded very elderly indeed. ‘What shall I do, Jenny?’
‘Just what the Professor asks, Aunt Bess,’ Jenny had been standing at the bedside, opposite the Professor, but she had taken no part in the conversation. Now she came a little nearer. ‘Doctor Toms says that Professor van Draak is a brilliant man, and you know you will only have the best—besides,’ she went on cunningly, ‘you’ll be as right as a trivet by the time Oliver comes to stay.’ Which wasn’t quite true, but she judged that a small fib was justified in the circumstances.
She watched her aunt thinking about it and nobody spoke until Miss Creed said: ‘Get on with it, then.’ Her voice was suddenly strong and autocratic. ‘And be sure and make a good job of it.’
The Professor assured her levelly that he would do just that, adding: ‘Might I have a few words with Miss…your niece? Perhaps someone could be fetched to sit with you for a short time.’
‘Do what you like,’ said Miss Creed rudely. ‘I can see that you’re a man who always wants his own way. Jenny, don’t let him flatten you.’
As they walked back along the corridor, Jenny said: ‘Aunt Bess doesn’t feel well…’ and was cut short by his patient: ‘My dear young lady, no one with a subdural haemorrhage feels well, and if you are referring to her remark that you should not allow me to flatten you, I rather imagine that there would be little possibility of that.’
She stopped so suddenly that he, walking a little behind her and to one side, bumped into her and was forced to catch her by the shoulders to steady her. She brushed him away with a wave of one beautifully kept hand. ‘I can’t imagine why you are so rude, Professor. Do you dislike the English, or just women? Whichever it is, isn’t going to help Aunt Bess very much.’
‘My dear Miss…’
‘Look,’ she interrupted him impatiently, ‘the name’s Wren—quite easy and so much nicer than Er.’
He laughed then, and for the first time she realised with a little shock that when he laughed he looked quite different—years younger; someone she would like to know… She squashed the thought at once and prompted: ‘You were saying?’
He had stopped laughing and was looking down his nose again, holding the door open for her at the head of the little staircase. ‘Merely that I do not dislike the English, nor, for that matter, women. I hope your curiosity is satisfied?’
‘Pooh!’ exclaimed Jenny, and ran down the stairs very fast, but despite his size, he was at the bottom only inches behind her, to open the door and usher her politely into the entrance hall. ‘Where can we talk?’ he asked abruptly.
She led the way through the small groups of people wandering round, out of the door and turned down a little flagged path which led to the tiny church adjacent to the house. Through the churchyard gate, among the ancient tombstones, she said: ‘Here.’
Rather to her surprise he remarked: ‘A peaceful and quite beautiful spot,’ and then leaned himself against the old grey walls of the church, crossed his elegantly shod feet, dug his hands into his jacket pockets and went on: ‘Your aunt is very ill; the thing is to get to the haemorrhage before it does any further damage; any moment it could worsen, although somehow I don’t think it will, but we mustn’t take chances. If I can operate quickly she has a very good chance of recovery.’ He glanced at the paper thin gold watch on his wrist. ‘It is now three o’clock. I have already spoken to Cowper’s; the theatre is available at six o’clock. Doctor Toms will be there, of course, and I have an excellent anaesthetist standing by as well as an extremely able assistant. Will you telephone for an ambulance and bring Miss Creed to the hospital at once? I presume that you will stay there until the operation is over.’
‘Of course. I must see Mrs Thorpe—the vicar’s wife, you know, and our housekeeper…’ Jenny was half talking to herself and he looked amused. ‘The ambulance first, of course, but don’t I have to have your authority for that?’
‘I talked to them a short time ago; they are more or less expecting a call for an urgent case, so there should be no difficulty.’
She eyed him curiously. ‘You were so sure—you had everything arranged.’
‘I like to be prepared—besides, I respect Doctor Toms’ judgment, I merely confirmed what he strongly suspected.’
She said inanely: ‘Yes, well…I suppose so. Have you a car here?’
He nodded in the direction of a magnificent Panther J72 drawn up on the gravel sweep outside the entrance and she opened her eyes wide. ‘Is that yours? I thought…that is, I…’
‘An unlikely car for a not-so-young Dutchman.’ He smiled faintly.
‘No—yes—I mean, she’s a beauty.’ She was suddenly a little breathless. ‘And you’re not even middle-aged!’
‘Forty, as near as not—and you, Miss Wren?’
‘Me? I’m twenty-five.’ She hadn’t meant to tell him that. ‘Where shall I take Aunt Bess?’
‘They will be expecting her. The usual routine before operation—nothing to eat or drink—but of course you know that.’ They were walking towards his car as he spoke and after the briefest of goodbyes, Jenny went indoors to telephone and then see Florrie and Mrs Thorpe. There was no time to lose, but even in her haste she found herself wishing that she could have spared a moment to watch the Professor drive off his splendid car.
Florrie grasped the situation within minutes; Jenny knew that she would be able to leave everything in her capable hands. The same couldn’t be said for Mrs Thorpe, who wasted precious minutes exclaiming: ‘There, I only said to Mr Thorpe yesterday,’ and ‘Well, I never,’ and ‘It’s to be hoped—’ She would have gone on for some time in this tiresome manner if Jenny hadn’t cut her politely short, begged her to organise the visitors on the following afternoon and arrange for Baxter to sell tickets again.
‘Probably I shall be back by then, Mrs Thorpe, but I’ll let you know. Mrs Trott’—Trott was the elderly lodge-keeper-cum-handyman—‘said she would help out if it was necessary at any time, and I’m sure she will—it will only be for a day or two while I’m with my aunt.’
Mrs Thorpe
