‘Nurse Grenfell, Mr van Tecqx has made a suggestion to me which I’m sure will gratify you. It seems that he has to drive past your home on your day off—tomorrow—and offers to give you a lift. It’s most kind of him, and I’m sure you will be delighted to accept his most generous offer.’
Emily cast a quick look at him. He was gazing out of the window at the vista of chimneypots, just as though the conversation had nothing to do with him. She felt tempted to refuse since his offer, given second-hand as it were, held no vestige of interest, but on the other hand an unexpected chance to go home wasn’t to be missed. She said with polite woodenness, ‘Thank you, Sister, I shall be most grateful to have a lift home.’
Mr van Tecqx turned away from his scrutiny of the hospital’s environment. There was a faint tremor at the corners of his firm mouth which might have been the beginnings of a smile. ‘My pleasure, Nurse. No doubt Sister will be kind enough to give you the details at her convenience.’
Sister Cook gave a regal nod. ‘Certainly, sir. You may go, Nurse.’
Emily went.
She had to wait until the evening, when she was about to go off duty, before Sister Cook sailed down the ward towards her. ‘Trouble on the way,’ warned a patient sotto voce. The patients liked her, she was such a scrap of a thing and yet nothing was too much trouble for her. She pinched out a cigarette from a patient’s hand and turned a calm face to her superior.
‘I smell smoke,’ declared Sister Cook, and cast a suspicious look around her. She allowed smoking on the ward, but only at hours dictated by herself.
‘It’s always rather smoky at this time in the evening,’ volunteered Emily in her calm way. ‘I suppose it’s all the chimneys and people coming home from work. Shall I close the windows, Sister?’
Sister Cook had a thing about fresh air, even though it wasn’t all that fresh in that part of London. She said no quite sharply and added, ‘I have a message for you, Nurse Grenfell. Mr van Tecqx will be outside your flat a half past eight in the morning. Don’t keep him waiting, Nurse. He’s a busy man.’
Emily was ready and waiting when she saw the car stop before her lodgings in the morning. She picked up her overnight bag, took a grip of Podge’s basket, and went down to the front door. Mr van Tecqx was on the step, searching in vain for a bell or a knocker. She wished him good morning politely and he said sharply, ‘For heaven’s sake stop calling me Sir with every other breath!’
She got into the car and watched him stow Podge on the back seat. ‘Why ever not?’ she asked him. ‘I’m expected to do so.’
‘Not by me, you’re not, not when we are away from Pearson’s. I must say I find it very tiresome having to ignore you or at best look through you when I’m on my rounds.’
A remark which surprised Emily so much that she stayed silent while he settled beside her and drove off. As though he had read her thoughts he went on, ‘If I were to show the least sign of interest in you, Sister Cook would pounce. In her eyes, consultants and student nurses don’t mix; the fact that they are men and women as well has no bearing on the matter from her point of view.’
Emily said, ‘Oh, yes,’ rather inadequately.
‘So next time I ignore you on the ward you will know why.’
She sought for a suitable reply and came up with, ‘Oh—really?’
She heard him sigh and sought for a topic of conversation. Manners mattered, her mother had always told her, and she had always tried to remember that. ‘Are you going to Dover?’ she asked.
‘No—I have friends in Biddenden.’
The silence lasted a little too long. Emily tried again. ‘The country around there is charming, and Biddenden is charming too…’
They were going down the A20 towards Swanley; the road was moderately free from traffic and Mr van Tecqx was driving fast. ‘Tell me about your father?’ he invited.
‘My father?’ repeated Emily stupidly. ‘What do you mean—what do you know about him? I never…’
‘My dear girl, I have ways of finding out the things I wish to know. How long has he been waiting for hip replacements?’
Emily ignored him. ‘What do you know about my father—how dare you snoop…?’
‘My dear girl, I never snoop—I have no need to do so. I had occasion to discuss a patient with your father’s doctor and in the course of conversation mentioned that you were a nurse at Pearson’s and that he might know you. He told me of your father’s condition.’
Emily cast him a quick look. His profile was calm, his voice had been uninterested, there was no reason to doubt his word. She said reluctantly: ‘I’m sorry. He’s been waiting for more than a year and it will be another year before there’s a bed for him.’
‘That is the National Health?’ asked Mr van Tecqx gently.
‘Yes.’ She hesitated. ‘As a matter of fact, I found out how much it would cost for him to be a private patient—it would save a year of waiting.’
‘So he will go privately?’
‘Well, yes…’
‘As soon as you have saved the money?’ Mr van Tecqx’s voice was so quiet she barely heard it.
‘Yes.’
He nodded. ‘Do you know your doctor’s number?’
‘Yes, of course.’
‘Then ring him up now on the car phone, will you, and ask him to meet us at your father’s house in—let me see—half an hour’s time.’
Emily made no move to do as he had asked. ‘Why?’
‘Let us not waste time. Your GP can call me in for consultation—I’ll have a look at your father and see what can be done.’
She said a little wildly, ‘But there are no beds—I asked. Two years, they said, and I haven’t saved enough money.’
‘The phone, Emily.’ His voice held a note she didn’t care to argue with. She did as she was bidden and then sat silent until they reached Eynsford.
‘You have to go up Sparepenny Lane and past the Tollhouse—it’s the row of cottages a bit further on,’ she told him.
Dr Mason was already there. Emily kissed her father, was greeted cheerfully by the doctor and introduced Mr vanTecqx, who nodded at the doctor, remarking that they were acquainted, and then shook hands with her father.
Her father was not in the least surprised to see him. Dr Mason, he explained to Emily, had arranged it all and he for his part was delighted. ‘Although I dare say I shall still have another year or two to wait, but just to be told by you, Mr van Tecqx, that there’s a possibility of success is a great encouragement.’
Emily, swamped in the unexpectedness of it all and vaguely suspicious at the same time, allowed her parent to suggest that she might go along to the kitchen and make coffee for everyone. ‘And don’t hurry back,’ begged Mr Grenfell. ‘We can manage very nicely.’
