and how lovely the garden was in the summer and how awful London was if you hadn’t anywhere to go—and James. He didn’t speak, just sat and listened as she enlarged upon James and his tedious perfections. ‘He’s s-so right always,’ she ended, ‘and so dreadfully patient and good when I lose my temper. He says I’ll be better when we settle down: But I don’t want to settle down—not with him.’
‘Have you anyone in mind?’ queried her companion mildly.
She said uncertainly, ‘No—oh, no,’ and knew in her heart that it wasn’t quite true. James and Maureen and her brother too had told her a great many times that there was no such thing as love at first sight; love came gradually, they had explained patiently, and Julia, an unwilling listener, had considered that it all sounded rather dull. She had said so, passionately, and they had smiled at her with pitying coolness. She said now, ‘I shouldn’t have said all that about James.’ She gave the doctor a direct look. ‘It was disloyal.’
He smiled nicely. ‘No. As far as I can judge, you owe this James nothing, and you can be sure that I’ll forget everything about the tiresome fellow, and I suggest that you do too, otherwise you’ll find yourself living in a semi-detached with a great deal to do and a string of babies.’
‘But I like babies!’
He closed his eyes. ‘So do I, Miss Pennyfeather. How delightful that we agree upon such an important aspect of life. If we persevere we shall undoubtedly find other things just as important.’
Julia stared at him, her lovely eyes wide. As though it mattered if they agreed about anything! The fewer things the better, she was inclined to think, bearing in mind Miss Marcia Jason…
‘Is she pretty?’ she asked suddenly. The doctor looked as though he was laughing silently, but he had that sort of face, anyway.
‘Very,’ he answered without hesitation, ‘small and fair, with large blue eyes. She has an extremely intelligent brain.’
‘Has the polio affected her badly?’
‘Luckily the damage is slight. It’s a question of constant encouragement, that’s why I thought a nurse, someone sensible and her own age, would give her the stimulus she needs for the last few weeks of convalescence.’
Julia nodded while she seethed. She had had her share of men friends, none of whom had ever called her sensible in that matter-of-fact voice. She gave him a cross look and went scarlet when he added, ‘Not that being sensible is your only attribute, my dear young lady, but it is the only one which applies in this case, I think.’ He got up, taking his time, and at the door he said, ‘Let us pray for good weather so that we may get away from here as soon as possible; I have never suffered so many draughts. Goodnight, Miss Pennyfeather.’
It snowed again the next day, but late in the afternoon the weathered cleared and at teatime Hamish offered the information that the worst was over, and neither Julia nor Doctor van den Werff thought to question his pronouncement, for after all, he had lived in the Border country all his life, and he should know. As if to bear him out the radio in the doctor’s car proclaimed exactly the same state of affairs, if in somewhat more elaborate language, adding a rider to the effect that telephone communications were being reinstated as quickly as possible. But the telephone at Drumlochie House remained silent and no one arrived, which wasn’t surprising, for the snow plough hadn’t got so far.
The snow plough, however, came the next morning and Doctor van den Werff went up to the road and brought the driver back for coffee. The road was clear, the man told them, at least a narrow lane of it, and once on the main road the going wasn’t too bad, although he warned them about skidding and went on to relate, to the delight of old Hamish, several unfortunate incidents which had occurred owing to the bad weather; he would have gone on for some time in like vein had not the doctor reminded him that he still had the stretch of road to Hawick to clear. When he had gone the doctor looked at his watch and remarked. ‘He should be there by midday or a little after. I should think we might expect someone by this evening. It is to be hoped that the telephone will be working again before then so that I can talk to Mary’s doctor—he should have had my message by now, that is, if Bert managed to get it to him.’
The doctor didn’t telephone, but came in his car with Jane and Madge sitting inside it. By the look on their faces, Julia thought that perhaps the journey hadn’t been all that smooth, a supposition the doctor bore out with forceful language when he got out of the car. ‘But I got your message,’ he said as he looked round the hall for Doctor van den Werff, who wasn’t there, ‘and I came as soon as I could—I had no idea…is Mary all right?’
Julia, easing him out of his duffle coat, said that yes, she believed so and that Doctor van den Werff would have heard the car and would be in to tell him all he wished to know. She then offered everyone tea, introduced herself to Jane and Madge, begged them to go and get warm in the kitchen and then inquired of the doctor if he had brought any food with him.
‘In the boot, I’ll bring it in presently, Nurse.’ He turned away as Doctor van den Werff walked in and Julia made her escape, leaving them to introduce themselves, for she had no idea of the doctor’s name.
They were drinking tea while Julia apologised for the amount of food they had eaten during their stay, when the two men came in with the air of people who were quite satisfied with each other. She poured them each a cup, offered a plate of scones and murmuring something about seeing to Mary, went upstairs, followed almost immediately by Jane and Madge, who made much of the invalid and listened with patience to her highly coloured version of her journey home. They rose to go at length, promising supper within a couple of hours, and went away, discussing the merits of a nice toad-in-the-hole as opposed to Quiche Lorraine. Scarcely had they gone when the two doctors presented themselves at the door and spent half an hour examining their patient and studying charts after which her own doctor pronounced himself well satisfied as to her condition and promised to be out the following morning. ‘And the nurse,’ he observed, ‘I fancy she’ll be here very shortly,’ he smiled at Julia. ‘You’ll be free to go, Nurse, with my grateful thanks.’
Julia murmured a reply, thankful that she had made up the bed in the room next to hers. She would get someone to light a fire there as soon as possible. The doctor shook her hand in a powerful grip, thanked her once more and went downstairs. Presently she heard his car making its careful way back to the road.
When she went downstairs presently the doctor was nowhere to be seen, but when she went into the hall she heard his voice in the sitting room, an icy apartment which housed the telephone which she was pleased to see he was using. He looked up as she went in and said cheerfully,
‘We’re on again, and the wind has brought back the electric too.’ He got up and came towards her. ‘What do you think of Doctor MacIntory?’
Julia looked at him, her head a little on one side. ‘He seemed very nice—so that’s his name. Do you plan to go tomorrow if the nurse comes tonight?’
He nodded. ‘If you have no objection, I’m anxious to get home.’ He smiled suddenly and because his smile gave her a faintly lightheaded sensation, she said the first thing which came into her head. ‘What sort of car have you got?’ she wanted to know.
‘Come and see,’ he invited, and went to fetch the cloak hanging behind the kitchen door and wrapped her in it and gave her his hand to hold because the steps were ice-covered again. The stable was gloomy and cold and could have housed half a dozen motor cars; there was only one there now—the doctor’s and well worth housing. It was a Jensen Interceptor, gleaming and sleek and powerful. She walked round it exclaiming, ‘What a lovely car—how fast does she go?’
