asked Julia.
‘Doctor van den Werff, silly. Isn’t it a nice name? I like him, don’t you?’
Julia, looking for a clean nightie for her patient, agreed. ‘Oh, yes, and you have cause to be grateful to him too.’
‘Well, I am. I told him so. I’m grateful to you too. Have I been a good patient?’
Julia looked across the room at her charge, a little wan still but pretty for all that. She said generously, ‘Yes, you have. It hasn’t been much fun for you, has it, but you’ve stuck to your diet like a brick and not fussed over your injections. Go on being good, won’t you? Nurse MacBonar is nice, don’t you think? We both like her very much and she’ll look after you splendidly, and if you keep to your diet and do as you’re told you’ll be able to lead the same life as any of your friends.’
‘Yes, Ivo told me that too. I’ll try. I like you, Nurse Pennyfeather—I like Ivo too. You’d make a handsome pair.’ She narrowed her blue eyes and stared at Julia, who stared back, mouth agape.
‘We’d what?’ Julia reiterated.
‘Make an awfully handsome pair. I can just see you coming down the aisle together, you with your eyes sparkling like they do when you’re pleased and happy and your cheeks all pink, and him, proud and smiling.’
Julia contrived a laugh, a very natural one considering her heart leapt into her throat and was choking her. She said with admirable calm, ‘Go on with you, Mary, it’s your own wedding you should be thinking about, not anyone else’s. Now go to sleep, because I shall wake you early to say goodbye in the morning.’
They wished each other goodnight and Julia, as it was still early, went along to Miss MacBonar’s room, trying to dismiss Mary’s words from her mind and failing utterly.
Her colleague had finished unpacking and had arranged her small possessions around her so that the room looked almost cosy. She looked up as Julia knocked and went in and said, ‘There you are, dear. Should we go down and have a last word with the doctor? I think he expects it.’
Julia ran a finger along the carved back of the rather uncomfortable chair she was leaning against. ‘He doesn’t expect me,’ she said positively, ‘but I’m sure he’d like to see you—last-minute things,’ she added vaguely. ‘Doctor MacIntory said he’d be along tomorrow if we’ve forgotten anything. The charts are in the table drawer in Mary’s room, and I’ve brought the insulin and syringe with me—I keep them in my room, here they are.’
She handed them over and Nurse MacBonar nodded understandingly and got to her feet. ‘Then I’ll pop along then and see that nice doctor of yours.’ She beamed at Julia as they went out of the room together. ‘You won’t come too?’
‘No, I don’t think so. I’m tired,’ said Julia mendaciously. They wished each other goodnight and she went along to her room and started to undress slowly, oblivious of the room’s chill. She wasn’t tired at all. There was no reason at all why she shouldn’t have gone downstairs with Nurse MacBonar, at least no reason she was prepared to admit, even to herself.
CHAPTER THREE
IT WAS COLD and dark when they left the next morning after the ample breakfast Madge had insisted upon them eating. And the road was like a skating rink. Julia clutched her hands tightly together under her cloak, sitting very stiff and upright beside the doctor, expecting every minute to go off the road or land upside down in a ditch.
‘Sit back,’ commanded her companion quietly, ‘nothing’s going to happen. You aren’t frightened?’
‘I’m terrified!’ declared Julia.
‘You must have realised that it would be like this?’
‘Yes, of course I did.’ She spoke crossly.
‘And yet you came with me?’
‘Well, I—I’m sure you’re a good driver,’ she answered lamely.
‘So you trust me as a driver as well. Good. Go on trusting me, Julia. Lean your head back and relax—I shan’t take any risks.’
She did as she was told and found to her surprise that after a little while she was actually enjoying the nightmare journey in an apprehensive sort of way, and when presently the doctor asked her if she was warm enough and then went on to talk about a hundred and one unimportant things, his quiet voice never altering its placid tones, flowing on through even the most hair-raising skids, she found herself answering him in a quite natural voice, and if her lovely face was a little paler than usual, there was no one to remark upon it.
Once on the main road the going was easier, although woefully slow in places so that when they reached Newcastle the doctor judged it wise to order sandwiches with their coffee in case it might prove difficult to stop later on.
The M1, when they got to it, was almost clear of snow, however, although lumps of it, frozen solid, added to the hazards of the already icy surface, but traffic was sparse at first and there was no fog so that they made good progress; so much so that south of Doncaster the doctor suggested that they should stop for lunch.
‘There’s a place I’ve been to before,’ he said, ‘a mile or two off the motorway. I think it’s called Bawtry.’
It was pleasant to get off the monotonous highway for just a little while, and the old coaching inn where he stopped looked inviting.
‘I’m sorry about my uniform,’ said Julia as they went inside. ‘I don’t look very glamorous.’
He gave her a sideways glance. ‘And what makes you think that I like a glamorous companion?’
She said in a prosaic voice, ‘I thought men did.’
He took her arm because the pavement was still slippery. ‘Not always,’ he said, half laughing, ‘in any case you’ve no need to worry; with your looks you could get away with anything you choose to put on.’
He said it so carelessly that she felt doubtful if he meant it as a compliment. She sighed and he said at once, ‘You’re tired, you need a meal.’
The food was good and the dining room pleasantly warm. They ate roast beef with all its traditional accompaniments washed down with burgundy, and while the doctor contented himself with the cheese board, Julia, who had a sweet tooth, applied herself to a chocolate soufflé. She ate with relish and as she put down her fork, remarked, ‘You know, food you haven’t cooked yourself always tastes different—besides, we had rather a monotonous diet at Drumlochie House, didn’t we?’
‘But excellently cooked. We were all glad there was no bread, yours was so delicious.’
‘I enjoyed baking it,’ said Julia simply. ‘What time shall we get to London?’
‘Almost a hundred and sixty miles—it’s hard to say. Three hours normally, but I should think we might double that allowing for slow going and hold-ups. Getting bored?’ he asked with a smile.
Julia shook her head, wishing very much to tell him that she was enjoying every minute of his company. Instead she remarked, ‘Not in the least. I like motoring, though I don’t do so much of it.’
‘Hasn’t
