to the door and shut it the moment he had driven away, intent on getting to her bed as quickly as possible. She took a slice of bread and butter and a slab of cheese with her, and George and Snoodles, who had sidled upstairs with her, got onto the bed too—which was a comfort for she was feeling hard done by and put upon.
‘It’s all very well,’ she told them peevishly. ‘He’ll go home to a doting wife—slippers in one hand and bacon and eggs in the other.’
She swallowed the last of the cheese and went to sleep, and not even the flute or Mrs Grimes’ loud voice could wake her.
The professor got into his car, and as he drove away his bleep sounded. He was wanted back at St Luke’s; one of the injured had developed signs of a blood clot on the brain. So instead of going home he went back and spent the next few hours doing everything in his power to keep his patient alive—something which proved successful, so that in the early afternoon he was at last able to go home.
He let himself into his house, put his bag down and trod into the sitting room, to come to a halt just inside the door.
‘Anneliese—I forgot…’
She was a beautiful girl with thick fair hair cut short by an expert hand, perfect features and big blue eyes, and she was exquisitely made-up. She was dressed in the height of fashion and very expensively, too. She made a charming picture, marred by the ill-temper on her face.
She spoke in Dutch, not attempting to hide her bad temper.
‘Really, Ruerd, what am I to suppose you mean by that? That man of yours, Beaker—who, by the way, I shall discharge as soon as we are married—refused to phone the hospital—said you would be too busy to answer. Since when has a consultant not been free to answer the telephone when he wishes?’
He examined several answers to that and discarded them. ‘I am sorry, my dear. There was a bomb; it exploded close to St Luke’s early this morning. It was necessary for me to be there—there were casualties. Beaker was quite right; I shouldn’t have answered the phone.’
He crossed the room and bent to kiss her cheek. ‘He is an excellent servant; I have no intention of discharging him.’ He spoke lightly, but she gave him a questioning look. They had been engaged for some months now, and she was still not sure that she knew him. She wasn’t sure if she loved him either, but he could offer her everything she wanted in life; they knew the same people and came from similar backgrounds. Their marriage would be entirely suitable.
She decided to change her tactics. ‘I’m sorry for being cross. But I was disappointed. Are you free for the rest of the day?’
‘I shall have to go back to the hospital late this evening. Shall we dine somewhere? You’re quite comfortable at Brown’s?’
‘Very comfortable. Could we dine at Claridge’s? I’ve a dress I bought specially for you…’
‘I’ll see if I can get a table.’ He turned round as Beaker came in.
‘You had lunch, sir?’ Beaker didn’t look at Anneliese. When the professor said that, yes, he’d had something, Beaker went on, ‘Then I shall bring tea here, sir. A little early, but you may be glad of it.’
‘Splendid, Beaker. As soon as you like.’ And, when Beaker had gone, the professor said, ‘I’ll go and phone now…’
He took his bag to his study and pressed the button on the answering machine. There were several calls from when Beaker had been out of the house; the rest he had noted down and put with the letters. The professor leafed through them, listened to the answering machine and booked a table for dinner. He would have liked to dine quietly at home.
They talked trivialities over tea—news from home and friends, places Anneliese had visited. She had no interest in his work save in his successes; his social advancement was all-important to her, although she was careful not to let him see that.
He drove her to Brown’s presently, and went back to work at his desk until it was time to dress. Immaculate in black tie, he went to the garage at the end of the mews to get his car, and drove himself to the hotel.
Anneliese wasn’t ready. He cooled his heels for fifteen minutes or so before she joined him.
‘I’ve kept you waiting, Ruerd,’ she said laughingly. ‘But I hope you think it is worth it.’
He assured her that it was, and indeed she made a magnificent picture in a slim sheath of cerise silk, her hair piled high, sandals with four-inch heels and an arm loaded with gold bangles. His ring, a large diamond, glittered on her finger. A ring which she had chosen and which he disliked.
Certainly she was a woman any man would be proud to escort, he told himself. He supposed that he was tired; a good night’s sleep was all that was needed. Anneliese looked lovely, and dinner at Claridge’s was the very least he could offer her. Tomorrow, he reflected, he would somehow find time to take her out again—dancing, perhaps, at one of the nightclubs. And there was that exhibition of paintings at a gallery in Bond Street if he could manage to find time to take her.
He listened to her chatter as they drove to Claridge’s and gave her his full attention. Dinner was entirely satisfactory: admiring looks followed Anneliese as they went to their table, the food was delicious and the surroundings luxurious. As he drove her back she put a hand on his arm.
‘A lovely dinner, darling, thank you. I shall do some shopping tomorrow; can you meet me for lunch? And could we go dancing in the evening? We must talk; I’ve so many plans…’
At the hotel she offered a cheek for his kiss. ‘I shall go straight to bed. See you tomorrow.’
The professor got back into his car and drove to the hospital. He wasn’t entirely satisfied with the condition of the patient he had seen that afternoon, and he wanted to be sure…
Emmy, sitting before her switchboard, knitting, knew that the professor was there, standing behind her, although he had made no sound. Why is that? she wondered; why should I know that?
His, ‘Good evening, Ermentrude,’ was uttered quietly. ‘You slept well?’ he added.
He came to stand beside her now, strikingly handsome in black tie and quite unconscious of it.
‘Good evening, sir. Yes, thank you. I hope you had time to rest.’
His mouth twitched. ‘I have been dining out. Making conversation, talking of things which don’t interest me. If I sound a bad-tempered man who doesn’t know when he is lucky, then that is exactly what I am.’
‘No, you’re not,’ said Emmy reasonably. ‘You’ve had a busy day, much busier than anyone else because you’ve had to make important decisions about your patients. All that’s the matter with you is that you are tired. You must go home and have a good night’s sleep.’
She had quite forgotten to whom she was speaking. ‘I suppose you’ve come to see that man with the blood clot on the brain?’
He asked with interest, ‘Do you know about him?’
‘Well, of course I do. I hear things, don’t I? And I’m interested.’
She took an incoming telephone call and, when she had dealt with it the professor had gone.
