was the second week of November, which meant that Alexandra would be free to leave well before Christmas, a sound reason to postpone the finding of a job until after the festive season. And indeed, during the ensuing weeks, she found herself singularly loath to set about serious job-hunting; she had made several tentative inquiries and met with encouraging replies, but she found herself unable to make up her mind about any of them, something which puzzled her just as much as it puzzled her family and friends. In the end she concluded that it was because she didn’t want to leave Penny Bright; the girl was making excellent progress now, down in Women’s Surgical, and each day she became prettier, only her memory, for the moment at least, had gone, and without relations or friends to stimulate it, it was proving a difficult task to break down the barrier her accident had caused. Mr Thrush was of the opinion that it would return, given time and patience, in the meantime he was satisfied with her progress. Alexandra went to visit her each day, usually as she was going off duty in the early evening, and it was on one of these occasions, two weeks or more after she had decided to leave, that Penny surprised her by saying: ‘Doctor van Dresselhuys says that I am almost well. I shall be glad to leave here, though everyone has been very nice to me.’
Alexandra smiled. ‘Well, of course, why shouldn’t they be?’ and could not prevent herself from asking: ‘Does he come often, the doctor?’
Penny answered readily. ‘Oh, yes, every week. He brings me books and magazines now that I may read a little and he shows me pictures of places and asks me if I know them. Sometimes he’s stern, though, and says I must do as I’m told…’
‘Why does he say that?’
‘Well, sometimes I don’t do as Sister tells me and then I get giddy—I shan’t be giddy for always, shall I?’
‘No, of course not, Penny, but you gave your head a nasty bang, you know, and it’ll take a little time to get quite well.’
She gave the girl sitting so docilely in the chair a motherly look. What a charming creature she was; no wonder the housemen made a beeline for her the moment they came into the ward, and so, apparently, did Doctor van Dresselhuys. She frowned, annoyed at having thought about him at all; she had dismissed him to the back of her mind days ago—she had tried to dismiss him altogether, but he had refused to go—and now, with just one remark from Penny, here he was again, every line of his handsome, aloof face well remembered, every note of his deep voice ringing in her ears.
She found herself wondering if she would encounter him on one of his visits, but either he had just gone or was expected shortly; he was never there when she was. After a few days she came to the conclusion that he didn’t want to meet her again.
She was finding the month hard to get through; she and Anthony couldn’t avoid meeting each other, and although she kept up a semblance of friendliness towards him, he chose to ignore this, behaving as though his feelings were much injured, and taking care to let everyone see it. She found herself longing to be gone even though her plans for the future were still vague. Even the news that Penny was considered well enough to leave hospital, while delighting her, did nothing to spur her on to the tiresome task of finding another job, let alone make up her mind where she wanted to go.
A decision which, as it turned out, she didn’t have to make, for the very next day, a few minutes after she had gained her room after her day’s duty, the floor telephone shrilled, bidding her go all the way downstairs again because Doctor van Dresselhuys would like a word with her.
Not in the best of tempers at this infringement of her free time, she dug her feet back into her shoes, put back the cap she had just taken off her rather untidy head, and trailed down four flights of stairs, to find him pacing impatiently to and fro in the hall.
The moment he saw her, however, he stopped his perambulations and came towards her, reaching the bottom step at the same time as she did, so that she found her eyes almost on a level with his. They stared at each other silently until she asked in a nettled tone: ‘You wanted to see me, Doctor van Dresselhuys?’
‘Yes. Penny is leaving the hospital in two days’ time, of course you know that.’ His voice was almost curt. ‘I understand that you are also leaving and have no immediate plans for the future. Penny has nowhere to go and until such time as she regains her memory, or her family come forward to claim her, my aunt has offered to give her a home. It is, of course, out of the question that she should do this without help. It would oblige me—us, if you would accompany her as a companion—nurse, whatever you like to call yourself, until her future is assured—at a not too distant date, I hope. We would naturally pay you your present salary.’
Alexandra opened her mouth and closed it again. She had been very much surprised at his offer, and now she was still more surprised to find that her instinctive response had been to say yes without even bothering to think it over. But she was a level-headed girl, not liking to be rushed into anything, so she thought about it for a few minutes, then: ‘That would be a great deal too much money,’ she observed. ‘Looking after one girl is hardly the same as running a big unit.’
He disregarded this. ‘You’ll come?’ His cool assumption that she would come piqued her. ‘I was going home for Christmas…’
‘Would you have gone if you had remained at St Job’s?’
Honesty compelled her to say that she wouldn’t, even though it annoyed her very much to have to confess it. He nodded in a satisfied way, which annoyed her even more. ‘Then I can take it as settled?’
‘No, you can’t,’ she snapped. ‘Do you always bulldoze your own way over other people? You’ve told me nothing; merely asked me to take a job. I don’t even know where your aunt lives.’
He smiled at her with a sudden charm which took her breath.
‘I’ve annoyed you, I’m sorry. I’ve been careless of your feelings and quite thoughtless; that is because I have been considering this plan for the last few days and I very much want you to take the job. You see, Penny is fond of you, and you have helped her a good deal even though she hasn’t been in your care for the last couple of weeks. You are a sensible woman and resourceful too, and I think—so does Mr Thrush—that if anyone can help Penny to overcome her amnesia, you are that one. Besides, Aunt Euphemia likes you.’
He paused and turned away to stare out of the small window, although there was nothing to see in the outside dark. ‘And you are quite right, I have told you nothing. My aunt has a small house—a cottage—in Suffolk. Rather remote, I should warn you, the nearest town of any size is Needham Market, and that’s no size at all. The cottage is a mile from the nearest village, Denningham. Do you drive?’
‘Yes.’
‘Ah, well, there will be no problem there, and little or nothing for you to do other than keep Penny under your eye, look to her health and try constantly, without her being too aware of it, to coax back her memory, even her name would help. We have decided to wait another two or three weeks, and if there are no developments during that time, then we shall have to do some more thinking. It is extraordinary that none of her family or friends have come forward; she may of course be in the unhappy position of having neither, but I hardly think that is the case.’ He gave her a direct look. ‘Would you mind very much about Christmas?’
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