in time, going pale at the thought that she had been on the point of telling him that she had fallen in love with him. She finished lamely, ‘Well, of course you don’t have to tell me. I didn’t mean to be rude.’
‘Not rude—you have every right to know, in the circumstances. Additionally, one day when we have the leisure you must tell me all about yourself. Now let us go back to the drawing-room and have our coffee and I will answer your questions.’
Once more by the fire with the coffee-tray between them, with Caesar’s head resting on the professor’s beautifully polished shoes and Gumbie curled up on Trixie’s lap, he observed, ‘Now, let me see—what was your first question? My name—Krijn, I’ll spell it.’ He did so. ‘It is a Friese name because my family come from Friesland. I’m thirty-eight—does that seem old to you? I have a mother and father, they live in Friesland and my four sisters are younger than I and married, and yes, I have been in love—a very long time ago; I think that you do not have to worry about that. She is happily married in South America, leading the kind of life I would have been unable to give her. I must confess that since then I have never thought seriously about marriage and I am perfectly content with my way of life—or have been until recently when I realised that a bachelor is very vulnerable, and, having given the matter due thought, marriage seemed the right answer.’ He smiled at her. ‘Do I seem too frank? I do not intend to hurt your feelings, Beatrice, but you are such a sensible girl there is no need to wrap up plain facts in fancy speeches.’
She longed to tell him how wrong he was; the most sensible girl in the world would never object to fancy speeches, but all she said was, ‘Thank you for telling me. I’m sorry you—your love-life was blighted…’ It sounded old-fashioned in her ears and she felt a fool, but his face remained placid although his eyes, half-hidden beneath their lids, held amusement. The amusement was kindly; he liked her, he felt at ease with her and she would act as a buffer between him and the determined efforts of his friends and acquaintances to get him married to any one of the attractive girls he met at their houses. He would have more time for his book… and in return she would have anything she wanted within reason and lead the kind of life she deserved. He remembered the strange pang he had felt when she had fallen down in the ward…
‘As soon as I am free I will call upon your uncle and aunt. There is no reason why we shouldn’t be married within the next few weeks, is there?’
The mere thought of it sent her heart rocking. ‘No, no, none at all.’
‘Good. I’ll let you know when I’m free for a day or two. You should have the privilege of choosing the day, should you not? So I will tell you when I can arrange to be away and give you a choice. Will that do?’
She nodded. ‘I have to give a month’s notice.’
‘Don’t worry about that. I’ll arrange for you to leave whenever you wish. You will wish to go to your aunt’s house?’
‘Well, I’m not sure if it would be convenient. Up to now I’ve only gone when I’m invited…’
‘In that case we will have a quiet wedding and you can stay with some friends of mine for a few days before we marry. In a church?’
‘Please. But will they want me?’
‘They’ll be delighted. Your aunt and uncle and Margaret will wish to be at the wedding?’
She took a deep breath. ‘Would you mind awfully if we just got married—just us and two witnesses, I mean, then I could go straight to the church from the hospital? That’s unless you wanted your family to come to the wedding?’
‘I hadn’t intended asking them. We could go over for a couple of days so that you might meet them and I should very much prefer a quiet ceremony if that is what you want.’
‘Yes, it is. I mean it’s not quite like an ordinary marriage, is it?’ Regret that the wedding of every girl’s dreams wasn’t to be for her sent sudden tears to her eyes, but she had no intention of crying. She was going to marry the man she loved and that was all that mattered. He was pleased, she could see that. She glanced at the clock and suggested in her quiet voice that she should go back to Timothy’s, and tried not to mind when he made no effort to keep her. She suspected that, the question of his wedding having been settled, he could turn with relief to his patient’s problems.
He bade her a friendly goodnight in the hospital, waiting until she had gone through the nurses’ home door before going to the wards, forgetting her the moment he reached them. As for Trixie, she undressed slowly, suddenly tired—which was a good thing, for her thoughts weren’t entirely happy—so that she slept before she began to worry.
CHAPTER THREE
SOMEHOW with the morning Trixie’s worries had disappeared. She got up and wandered along to the kitchen to make tea, since she had a second day off, and although she hadn’t handed in her name for breakfast the home maid fetched her bread and butter and marmalade. She took the lot back on a tray and got into bed and several of her friends poked their heads round the door on their way to their own breakfast to wish themselves in her place and ask what she was going to do with her day.
Yesterday still loomed large in her thoughts; she hadn’t given a thought to today. ‘Nothing—just potter. Do some window-shopping and be back here for tea, most likely.’
‘How about the flicks this evening?’ asked Lucy. ‘See you then.’
There wasn’t any point in lying in bed once she had gobbled up her bread and butter. She got up again and dressed and presently left Timothy’s and got a bus bound for Regent Street. The rush-hour was over but there were plenty of shoppers strolling from one window to the next. Trixie joined them, her small nose close to the glass, lost in a pleasant dream wherein she was able to buy anything she wanted without having to bear in mind the fact that it would have to last for a year or two. If she married the professor—she repeated the ‘if’ to herself—presumably she would be able to indulge her taste to a certain extent. She supposed that he was fairly well-off and she would have an allowance for clothes. Aunt Alice did; so did Margaret.
She wandered along and turned into Bond Street, peering at the exquisite clothes in the boutiques and wondering if he would see her that evening. He had told her that he would be busy all day, but surely he would be free later in the day? Perhaps he would take her to his home again and they would have dinner together—the duck had been delicious… She suddenly felt hungry and the sight of a small café down a side street sent her hurrying to it. She hadn’t much money—pay-day was still a week away—but she ordered coffee and a bun and then, refreshed, continued her window-shopping until it was time to go to Oxford Street and buy herself lunch in the cafeteria in BHS. There was still the afternoon to fill in. She took a bus to the National Gallery and wandered around the galleries studying the paintings. There weren’t many people there and she went from one vast room to the next, a small lonely figure but quite content. She had always hoped that she would meet a man she would love and want to marry, but she hadn’t had much hope of doing so and certainly had had little hope of any man wanting to marry her; now her dearest dream had come true. Suddenly anxious to get back to Timothy’s in case he was looking for her, she joined a bus queue and went back to Regent Street and then caught another bus to Timothy’s.
It was dusk already and there was a damp mist. The many lights shining from Timothy’s’ windows merely served to show up the shabbiness of the surrounding streets. Trixie hardly noticed that; she bounced through the entrance doors and started across the hall towards the nurses’ home entrance. She was passing the porter’s lodge when Murgatroyd, the head porter, put his head through the little
