stayed a little longer than usual, reassuring Mrs Morgan as to her future health, and had bidden her goodbye with his usual cold politeness, nodding briefly to Abigail as he went away. On her way off duty, half an hour later, she had seen him in the main ward, doing a round with his registrars and housemen, Sister and attendant satellites of students, nurses, physiotherapist and social worker. He looked very important but completely unconscious of the fact, an aspect of his character which she found strangely endearing.
The days following passed pleasantly enough. Mrs Morgan was out of bed now, although she preferred to keep to her room, walking a little and talking incessantly about her flight to the States, which she anticipated with all the impatience of someone who always had what they wanted when they wanted it. Abigail was impatient too—although she damped it down—for pay-day. She had had several letters from Bolly and from the sparse information they contained as to how he fared, she guessed that life was being difficult for him. She had already decided that she would send almost all her money to him, for she was almost certain that Mrs Morgan would ask her to stay another week, perhaps longer, and she didn’t want him to wait any longer for it. The moment she got back to London she would go to the agency again and ask for another job. She reviewed her plans almost daily, and behind all this careful scheming was the thought that she would never see the professor again once she had left Holland. A ridiculous thing to worry about, she told herself scornfully, for she very much doubted if he would notice if she were there or not. She dismissed him firmly from her thoughts and went out each day, exploring Amsterdam.
It was on the morning that she was due to be paid that Mrs Morgan asked her if she would stay another week. ‘I know I don’t really need you, honey,’ she said, ‘but you are such a comfort to have around, and Dolly and Eddy don’t need to worry about me at all. I’ve booked a flight for next week—a week today—if you would stay and see me safely away?’
She opened the crocodile handbag with the gold fittings which looked almost too heavy for her to carry and took out an envelope. ‘Here’s your salary, honey—I got Eddy to see to it for me. You’d rather have the cash, I’m sure. I bet you’ve got your eye on something pretty to buy with it.’
Abigail agreed pleasantly. She had grown quite fond of her patient while she had been looking after her and she saw no point in disturbing her complacent belief that the rest of the world lived in the same comfortable circumstances as herself. She put the envelope in her pocket and picked up the guide book of Holland which she had been reading to Mrs Morgan. Later, when she was free that afternoon, she would go to the post office and send the money to Bollinger, and perhaps now that she knew when she would be finished with the case, she should write to the agency and ask if they had anything else she could go straight to. The problem remained at the back of her mind while she read aloud about the delights of Avifauna and the best way of getting there, she was interrupted half way through by her companion telling her with enthusiasm that she intended to return. ‘Because,’ said Mrs Morgan, ‘this is a sweet little country and I must say some of the people I’ve met are well worth cultivating.’ She giggled happily and Abigail, who knew that she was talking about Professor van Wijkelen, smiled politely and wondered what success she would have in that quarter.
With her patient tucked up for her afternoon nap, Abigail was free to go to her room and open the envelope. There was two weeks’ salary inside and her fare—but only her single fare. She had expected to be given the return fare and had neglected to ask anyone about it. Perhaps she was only entitled to half her travelling expenses; on the other hand, Mrs Morgan might give it to her with her next week’s pay. She put the fare away in her bag, popped the rest into the envelope she had ready and got into her outdoor clothes.
It was cold outside and bleak with the bleakness of January. The clouds had a yellow tinge to them and the wind was piercingly cold. She hurried to the post office some streets away, where there were clerks who spoke English and would understand her when she asked for a registered envelope.
The post office was warm inside. The walk had given her eyes a sparkle and put some colour into her cheeks. She had perched her knitted beret on top of her head and wound its matching scarf carelessly round her throat. She took her gloves off and blew on her cold fingers and went up to the counter.
It took a little while to understand the clerk and then she was so disappointed that she could hardly believe him. She had taken it for granted that she could send either the cash or a money order to Bolly and it seemed she had been hopelessly at fault—she could do no such thing. Go to a bank, suggested the clerk helpfully, where there would be forms to be filled in and a certain amount of delay. But she wanted Bolly to have the money now—within the next day or two. If she waited until she went back herself that was a whole week away—besides, she had promised Bolly. She sighed and the clerk sighed in sympathy and she said, ‘Well, thank you very much for explaining. I should have found out earlier, shouldn’t I?’
‘Can I help?’ The professor—she would have known his icy voice anywhere. She whirled round to face him.
‘Oh, how funny to meet you here, sir. I don’t think so, thank you. It’s just something that was my own silly fault anyway.’
‘Why should it be funny, Nurse Trent? I also write letters, you know.’
‘Yes, I’m sure you do, only—only I should have thought that you would have had someone to post them.’
‘Indeed? I am not particularly interested in your suppositions, but I find this one extraordinary. How can I help you?’
Persistent man, he wasn’t going to take no for an answer. She explained in a matter-of-fact voice and apologised again for being stupid.
‘Why should you be stupid?’ he asked irritably. ‘You were not to know before you asked. How much money did you want to send?’
‘Forty pounds. No—I’ve got to take some off …’ she began to reckon twelve and a half per cent of forty pounds in her head and the amount came different each time she did it. Finally she asked, because he showed signs of impatience, ‘How much is twelve and a half per cent of forty pounds?’
‘Five pounds. Why?’
‘Well, that’s what I have to pay the agency for as long as I work for them.’
‘Iniquitous! It so happens that I am going over to London this evening. I will take the money, since you seem so anxious to send it.’
She stared at him, astonished. ‘But you don’t even … you’re very kind, but I couldn’t trouble you. I shall be going back myself in a week’s time.’
The professor tweaked her out of the queue forming behind her.
‘Ah, yes—I should be obliged if you would remain in Amsterdam for a further few weeks. I have a patient upon whom I shall be operating in ten days’ time, and he will need a special nurse in hospital and probably to accompany him home when he is sufficiently recovered. Your usual fee will be paid you.’
Abigail’s voice sounded a little too loud in her own ears. ‘But you don’t …’ She stopped—what had his personal opinion of her got to do with it anyway? He wanted a nurse and she was available. She answered him with her usual calm good sense, ‘Yes, Professor, I should be quite willing to stay on for as long as you require me.’
He nodded carelessly, as though he had known all along that she was going to say yes.
‘Very well, we will consider the matter settled,’ and when she looked at him it was to find him smiling. Perhaps it was because she had never seen him smile that her heart lurched against her ribs and her breath caught in her throat. It transformed
