never seemed to be that, rather someone whom she had known for a very long time.
‘You are prepared to take that responsibility? You should marry.’ There was the faintest question in his voice.
‘Well, that would be awfully convenient, but no one’s asked me, and anyway I can’t imagine anyone wanting to make a home for Peta as well as me.’
She couldn’t see his eyes very well; the heavy lids almost covered them, probably he was half asleep with boredom. ‘I think you may be wrong there,’ he said quietly, and then: ‘And what do you think of our hospital?’
It was easy after that; he led her from one topic to the next while they ate the smoked eel and then the chicken, washed down with the wine which had been the subject of such serious discussion with the wine waiter. Lavinia had no idea what it was, but it tasted delicious, as did the chocolate mousse which followed the chicken. She ate and drank with the simple pleasure of someone who doesn’t go out very often, and when she had finished it, she said shyly: ‘That was quite super; I don’t go out a great deal—hardly ever, in fact. I thought you meant it when you said a quick snack.’
He laughed gently. ‘It’s quite some time since I took a girl out to supper. I haven’t enjoyed myself so much for a long while.’ He added deliberately: ‘We must do it again.’
‘Yes, well…that would be…’ She found herself short of both breath and words. ‘I expect I should be getting back.’
He lifted a finger to the hovering waiter. ‘Of course—a heavy day tomorrow, isn’t it?’
He spoke very little on their way back to the hospital, and Lavinia, trying to remember it all later, couldn’t be sure of what she had replied. He wished her good night at the hospital entrance and got back into his car and drove off without looking back. He was nice, she admitted to herself as she went to her room; the kind of man she felt at ease with—he would be a wonderful friend; perhaps, later on, he might be. She went to sleep thinking about him.
There was the usual chatter at breakfast and several of her table companions asked her if she had had a good supper. Evidently someone had told them. Neeltje probably; she was a positive fount of information about everything and everyone. She informed everyone now: ‘The Prof’s going to a conference in Vienna; he won’t be here for a few days, for I heard him telling Doctor van Teyl about it. We shall have that grumpy old van Vorst snapping our heads off if we have to go to the Path. Lab.’ She smiled at Lavinia. ‘And he is not likely to ask you to go out with him.’
Everyone laughed and Lavinia laughed too, although in fact she felt quite gloomy. Somehow she had imagined that she would see Professor ter Bavinck again that morning, and the knowledge that she wouldn’t seemed to have taken a good deal of the sparkle out of the day.
She settled down during the next few days into her new way of life, writing to Peta every day or so, studying her Dutch lessons hard so that she might wring a reluctant word of praise from Juffrouw de Waal, and when she was on duty, working very hard indeed. She had scrubbed for several cases by now and had managed very well, refusing to allow herself to be distracted or worried by the steady flow of Dutch conversation which went on between the surgeons as they worked, and after all, the instruments were the same, the technique was almost the same, even if they were called by different names. She coped with whatever came her way with her usual unhurried calm.
Only that calm was a little shattered one morning. They were doing a gastro-entreostomy, when the surgeon cast doubts on his findings and sent someone to telephone the Path. Lab. A minute or two later Professor ter Bavinck came in, exchanged a few words with his colleagues, collected the offending piece of tissue which was the cause of the doubt, cast a lightning look at Lavinia, standing behind her trolleys, and went away again.
So he was back. She counted a fresh batch of swabs, feeling the tide of pleasure the sight of him had engendered inside her. The day had suddenly become splendid and full of exciting possibilities. She only just stopped herself in time from bursting into song.
CHAPTER THREE
BUT THE DAY wasn’t splendid at all; she was in theatre for hours as it turned out, with an emergency; some poor soul who had fallen from a fourth floor balcony. The surgeons laboured over her for patient hours and no one thought of going to dinner, although two or three of the nurses managed to get a cup of coffee. But Lavinia, being scrubbed and taking the morning’s list, went stoically on until at length, about three o’clock in the afternoon, she had a few minutes in which to bolt a sandwich and drink some coffee, and because the morning’s list had been held up it ended hours late; in consequence the afternoon list was late too, and even though she didn’t have to scrub, she was still on duty. When she finally got off duty it was well past seven o’clock. There was no reason why she should look for the professor on her way to supper; he was unlikely to be lurking on the stairs or round a corner of any of the maze of passages, so her disappointment at not meeting him was quite absurd. She ate her supper, pleaded tiredness after her long day, and retired to the fastness of her room.
A good night’s sleep worked wonders. She felt quite light-hearted as she dressed the next morning; she would be off at four o’clock and the lists weren’t heavy; perhaps she would see Professor ter Bavinck and he would suggest another quick snack… She bounced down to breakfast, not stopping to examine her happiness, only knowing that it was another day and there was the chance of something super happening.
Nothing happened at all. Work, of course—there was always plenty of that; it was a busy hospital and the surgeons who worked there were known for their skill. The morning wore on into the afternoon until it was time for her to go off duty. Neeltje was off too—they were going out with some of the other nurses; a trip round the city’s canals was a must for every visitor to Amsterdam and they would take her that very evening. She got ready for the outing, determined to enjoy herself. She had been silly and made too much of the professor’s kindness—it was because she went out so seldom with a man that she had attached so much importance to seeing him again. Heaven forbid that she should appear over-eager, indeed, if he were to ask her out again she would take care to have an excuse ready, she told herself stoutly. She stared at her reflection in the looking glass—he wasn’t likely to ask her again, anyway. He was in the hospital each day, she had heard someone say so, and there had been plenty of opportunities…
She left her room and took the short cut to the hospital entrance where she was to meet the others. The last few yards of it gave her an excellent view of the forecourt so that she couldn’t fail to see the professor standing in it, talking earnestly to a young woman. It was too far off to see if she was pretty, but even at that distance Lavinia could see that she was beautifully dressed. She slowed her steps the better to look and then stopped altogether as he took the girl’s arm and walked away with her, across the tarmac to where his motorcar was standing. She didn’t move until they had both got into it and it had disappeared through the gates, and when she did she walked very briskly, with her determined little chin rather higher than usual and two bright spots of colour on her cheeks.
When they all got back a couple of hours later, the professor was standing in the entrance, talking to two of the consultants, and all three men wished the girls Goeden avond. Lavinia, joining in the polite chorus of replies, took care not to look at him.
She wakened the next morning to remember that it was her day off. The fine weather still held and she had a formidable list of museums to visit. She was up and out soon after nine o’clock, clad in a cool cotton dress and sandals on her bare feet and just enough money in her handbag to pay for her lunch.
She went first to the Bijenkorf, however, that mecca of the Amsterdam shopper, and spent an hour browsing round its departments, wishing
