moment, Antonia would have seen them. She excused herself in the hall and flew upstairs to change back into uniform. It was foolish, but she felt better able to cope with the situation once she had clasped the silver buckled belt round her slim waist and tucked her hair tidily under her cap.
The Baroness and Antonia were sitting by the window when she went in and although Antonia said nothing, Sappha gained the strong impression that this was because she had been told not to. The Baroness turned her still beautiful eyes upon Sappha and asked merely: ‘A pleasant walk, I hope, dear?’ Sappha, repeating her impressions of the sea and relaying the little bits of gossip she had gleaned from the post office, wondered why her patient didn’t ask about Andrew, for it was obvious from their faces that they had seen him. She hadn’t long to wait to find out, however, for very soon the Baroness told Antonia to go down to tea and tell Mrs MacFee that Sappha would be down directly, and that young lady had barely closed the door when her mother said:
‘So he came after you, Sappha. I hope he doesn’t intend to take you back with him—not,’ she added earnestly, ‘that I should dream of stopping you.’
Sappha paused in the clearing up of the bed table in preparation for the tea tray. She said a little wildly: ‘But he hasn’t asked me. I don’t even know why he’s here—I’ve had no chance…we’d only just met when Dr van Duyren joined us.’ She added bitterly: ‘He insisted on bringing Andrew back for tea and he’s kindly arranged for me to be free tomorrow afternoon and evening.’
Her patient seemed to miss the sarcasm in her attendant’s voice, for she said kindly: ‘Now, isn’t that nice? How thoughtful of Rolf. I expect they took to each other at once.’
Sappha, who had her own opinion about this, muttered: ‘Oh, well—they’re both doctors,’ and remembered the Baron’s modest admission to being a GP.
‘Exactly what does Dr van Duyren do?’ she asked.
The Baroness closed her eyes the better to think. ‘Let me see now—he has a large practice in Dokkum, but of course he has two partners, then he has consultant’s chambers in Groningen as well as being a professor at the Medical School—he has a teaching round and so on and he’s an examiner—he specialises in stomachs and I never have understood why, my dear.’
Sappha said weakly: ‘He’s busy.’
‘Too busy,’ agreed his mother, ‘I sometimes think. But he seems to like it, though I have warned him that if he’s not careful he’ll have neither the time nor the inclination to marry. When he does, of course, his wife will come before everything else,’ she sighed, ‘just as I did with his father.’ Two tears rolled down her cheeks and Sappha hurried across to her to put her arms around her and say: ‘There there—and how proud you must be to remember that, and I’ve no doubt that you were worth every second of his time.’
This remark induced the Baroness to give a watery smile. ‘Oh, yes indeed I was—and the children too,’ she added, ‘Rolf’s very like him.’
Sappha straightened up. There was no accounting for tastes, she told herself crossly, and after all the Baroness was his mother. She was on her way to the door when the Baroness observed: ‘Well, I daresay your young man will tell you why he came when you see him tomorrow. I must say he has a great deal of patience after coming all this way.’
Sappha had thought so too, but it wasn’t very nice to be reminded of it by someone else. But it was a long way, surely Andrew hadn’t driven hundreds of miles just to say hullo. Besides, there was still the question of Staff Nurse Beatty. Sappha said tonelessly: ‘I’ll get your tea, Baroness.’
She put off going down to her own tea for as long as possible, so that by the time she went into the sitting room everyone was having second cups and Andrew was explaining at some length just how important it was to have the right sort of practice. He was forced to break off while Sappha was told to sit down and asked if there was enough milk in her tea and was the toast really hot still; she sensed his annoyance at being interrupted even across the room. He had nodded briefly at her when she went in, but it was the Baron who had got up and pushed her gently into his own chair and then, taking no further notice of her, gone over to sit by Andrew, to listen, apparently tonguetied with admiration, to that gentleman’s dissertation upon his brilliant future. Sappha munched morosely at a scone and drank her tea, watching Andrew. He was enjoying himself—he had an audience who appeared to be interested in him, even though he wasn’t in the least interested in them. She glanced round the room; Mrs MacFee was listening with a charmingly attentive air, so was the minister, Antonia was gazing at him with rapt attention—and so to was the Baron, too rapt, thought Sappha. He looked up and caught her staring at him and returned it with one of his own, a long searching look which ended in a faint smile.
She dressed with care for her meeting with Andrew—a fine wool dress in a warm shade of pink with a high neckline and full sleeves gathered into bands and then ruffled over her hands. She covered it with her raincoat and tied a matching scarf over her hair. Andrew said that they would go for a run before tea and then sit in Mrs MacGregor’s parlour until dinner was ready for them. There were things, he had said, which had to be discussed. She pondered this remark while she was putting on her good shoes—a reckless act, she knew, seeing that the weather was worsening every minute, but she wanted to look nice for him.
When she was dressed, however, she sat down on the bed, reluctant to go, even though he had said he would call for her at two o’clock, and it was already past that hour. It worried her that she didn’t feel happier or more excited than she was. Perhaps it was the shock of seeing Andrew again which made her so curiously apathetic about the afternoon’s outing. She got up and went to the Baroness’s room to say goodbye and found that lady straining to see out of the window from her chair. She looked round as Sappha went in and said:
‘He’s just come, dear—he seems a very smart man, I hope you’ll have a lovely time. Antonia is very taken with him, you know, not that that signifies anything—I daresay you will come back with a ring on your finger once more.’
Sappha said slowly: ‘I don’t know. I think I’d want to wait this time. I—I have to be sure.’ She picked up a pillow and put it where it belonged. ‘You’re sure you can manage? I feel it’s all wrong leaving you alone—Gloria isn’t here either…’
‘Nonsense,’ said the Baroness comfortably, ‘Antonia is dying to play nurse; you’ve put out my pills, my exercises are done, and Rolf will be in, I daresay, to make sure everything is all right.’
Sappha said goodbye and went downstairs to where Andrew was waiting, talking amusingly to Mrs MacFee. He smiled at Sappha as she joined them and said casually: ‘Hullo there,’ looking so completely at ease that she felt a small prick of annoyance because he was so sure of her. After all, it had been he who had let her down even though he had come back to her.
The afternoon wasn’t an unqualified success. Andrew was a good driver and he handled his car—a Jaguar—well, but as Sappha pointed out, the wind was now almost gale force and the rain was developing from a thick drizzle to a steady downpour. It seemed foolish to take the road through Shieldaig and Kishorn just so that they might see the heights of Skye from Auchtertyre; in any case, Sappha pointed out reasonably, in such weather there would be nothing to see. To all of which Andrew replied with a laugh. ‘Nonsense,’ he said, ‘we can talk as we go and worry about the scenery when we get there.’
But talking was impossible. At first it hadn’t been too bad going down into Torridon, for there was shelter from the forests which lined most of the narrow road and later on the newly constructed road towards Shieldaig, but then the road reverted to its former width, winding up and down the hills so that Andrew had to pay attention
