buying supper and cooking it for her? She wasn’t the only one who had been overworked that day. Presently, when they had had their coffee, she would find that out, but now she contented herself with: ‘Are you a physician?’
He put two lumps of sugar into her mug and four into his own. ‘Yes.’
‘But you don’t work here—in England?’ she persisted.
He sat back, crossed one long leg over the other and contemplated his shoes. ‘You’re very inquisitive,’ he observed mildly.
‘I am not,’ said Araminta hotly. ‘You invited yourself to supper, just like that, and—and you came the other evening, just as though we were lifelong friends, and you expect me to entertain you without knowing the first thing…you might be anyone!’
He put down his mug. ‘So I might, I hadn’t thought of that. I can assure you that I lead a more or less blameless life, that Sir Donald knows me very well indeed, and that I have no intention of harming you in any way.’ He grinned suddenly. ‘I have always favoured big dark girls with black eyes…’
Araminta snorted. ‘I am not in the least interested in your tastes or habits,’ she assured him untruthfully. ‘And now would you mind very much if you go? You’ve been very kind, giving me this nice supper, and I’m most grateful,’ then she added with disarming honesty: ‘I don’t think I like you.’
He disconcerted her by throwing back his head and laughing so loudly that she cried urgently: ‘Oh, shush—do think of the neighbours!’ She fetched his coat and offered it to him. ‘Good night, and thank you again,’ she said politely and stood while he slung the coat round his shoulders, which made him seem more enormous than he already was. At the door she asked: ‘Why did you come?’
‘I wanted to see you again.’
‘You said that last time.’
He swooped suddenly and kissed her hard. ‘I daresay I shall say it next time, too,’ he assured her, and added blandly: ‘I would have washed up…’
He had gone, up the area steps and into the dark street, without saying goodnight or goodbye. Araminta stood where she was, staring out into the night, her pretty tired face the picture of astonishment. Presently she went inside and cleared away the remains of their supper and washed the dishes. She did it very carelessly, breaking a mug and two plates, while she urged her tired brain to reflect upon the evening. But she gave up very soon and went to bed; she really was too weary to think straight, the morning would give her more sense. The thought that she might see the doctor again sneaked into the back of her mind and wiped everything else out of it, although she told herself that she couldn’t bear him at any price—she would make that quite clear to him the next time they met.
CHAPTER THREE
A GOOD NIGHT’S SLEEP worked wonders. Araminta rose at her usual hour, got her breakfast, tidied her small home and walked briskly to St Katherine’s. It was a chilly, grey day and the streets looked drearier than usual, but she didn’t notice that. She was wondering, in the light of early morning, how on earth she had allowed herself to be conned into inviting Doctor van Sibbelt to supper. Thinking about it, she was pretty sure that she hadn’t. He had invited himself—and he had behaved very strangely; she had been kissed before, but somehow this time she had felt disturbed by it, and that was strange in itself, because she didn’t like him. She would take great care to treat him with polite aloofness when next they met.
She entered the Accident Room, carrying on a mythical conversation with him in which he came off very much the worse for wear, and was brought up short by the line of people already in the waiting area. Of course, they would be some of the victims of yesterday’s bomb, come for a check-up. A good number of them had been sent to their own doctors for after-care, but there had been several doubtful ones who had been asked to return. Doctor van Sibbelt’s handsome features faded at once and stayed that way until she went to her dinner, leaving Sylvia to cope with the few patients who were receiving attention.
Most of her friends were there, consuming their meal with the businesslike speed of those who never have the chance to linger over their food, but they managed to get a good deal of talking done at the same time. Araminta was plied with questions and the conditions of the various patients she had dispatched to the wards the day before were discussed at some length. They were consuming their stewed fruit and custard when someone asked: ‘Who was that man with Sir Donald? I saw them coming out of theatre. Didn’t you say Sir was with you, Araminta?’
Araminta, her mouth full, nodded.
‘And the man with him?’
She nodded again and managed: ‘He’s a doctor.’
‘He’s a smasher.’ It was the same girl who spoke, one of the junior sisters on Men’s Surgical, a pert, pretty girl whom nobody liked very much. ‘Did you speak to him?’
‘Yes,’ said Araminta, ‘I asked him if he was going to cut down and he said he’d have a try with a needle first.’
There was a little burst of laughter. ‘Do you mean to tell me that he didn’t ask you out?’ asked the pert girl suspiciously.
‘No,’ said Araminta, and added quenchingly: ‘It was hardly the time or the place, was it?’
Her questioner subsided and they got up from the table in twos and threes and went along to the sitting room in the Home for the last precious ten minutes, to drink their tea in peace before going back to their various jobs.
‘I can’t stand that girl!’ Pamela Carr exclaimed as she and Araminta walked through the maze of passages to the main wing of the hospital, ‘and just my wretched luck to be relieving on Men’s Surgical while Sister West’s on holiday—the creature seems to think that she knows the lot; its “Sister Carr, do this, Sister Carr, do that”.’ She sniffed. ‘She tints her hair.’
Araminta chuckled. ‘I thought she did. I didn’t like her either, but cheer up, Pam, think of her face when she discovers that you’ve been offered Sister West’s job when she retires after Christmas. The boot’ll be on the other foot then.’
Pam sighed. ‘It seems a long way off—ever so many things could happen…’
‘Such as what?’ Araminta pushed the Accident Room door open. ‘You could meet a millionaire who falls for you on sight and carries you off to some gorgeous mansion…’
Her companion laughed. ‘I’d like to see it happen! It sounds more like you.’
‘I’m not the type. ‘Bye for now.’
The afternoon dragged a little. The hospital had been taken off take-in for a couple of days, so that all the emergencies could go to neighbouring hospitals, leaving St Katherine’s time to get back into its stride. Araminta had the time now to sit at her desk and make out the off duty for the month ahead, write the nurses’ reports, harangue the laundry, the dispensary and the Admissions Office by telephone, and go on a careful inspection of her department. This was something she did regularly, for although she was on excellent terms with her staff, she allowed no slackness. She returned to her desk well satisfied; the place was pristine, she had had time to chat to each member of her staff, arranging for them to take the off duty they had missed, say a few words in the kitchen to Betsy, and go along to X-Ray to iron out one or two awkward situations which had cropped up. It was almost time for her to go to tea, but she decided against it; Dolly could go
