Three for a Wedding. Betty Neels

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for granted that the two of them would share a year together, perhaps in some post abroad. Sybil had known that, just as she had known that Phoebe had stayed at St Gideon’s, waiting for her to finish her training. She asked in a voice which betrayed none of these thoughts: ‘What’s he like, your Nick?’

      ‘I knew you’d be on my side, darling Phoebe.’ Sybil told her at some length about Nick and added: ‘He wanted to meet you and Aunt Martha. I thought we might fix a weekend—your next nights off, perhaps.’

      ‘Yes, of course.’

      ‘He’s got a car—we could all come down together.’

      Phoebe smiled. ‘Nice—I shall be able to snore on the back seat,’ and then, quietly: ‘There’s something else, isn’t there, Syb?’

      ‘Oh, Phoebe darling, yes, and I don’t know what to do unless you’ll help me. You see, a few weeks ago I was chosen to take a job in Holland …’

      Phoebe had her head bowed over the tree-trunk, watching a spider at work. She said placidly: ‘Yes, dear—go on.’

      ‘Well, it’s some scheme or other cooked up between St Elmer’s and some hospital or other in Delft—there’s a professor type who specialises in fibrocystitis—he’s over here doing some research with old Professor Forbes, and the scheme is for a nurse from Delft to come over here and me to go there for two months. But first I’m supposed to go to the hospital where he’s working—you know that children’s hospital where they’ve got a special wing—the idea being that I shall be so used to his ways that it won’t matter where I work. I thought it would be fun and I said I would, and then Nick … we want to get married.’

      ‘Of course, but you could get married afterwards, dear. It would only be a few months—not long.’

      Her young sister gave her a smouldering glance. ‘Yes, it is,’ she declared. ‘I won’t!’

      ‘Well, tell your people at hospital that it’s all off.’

      ‘I can’t—all the papers and things are signed and the hospital in Delft has made all the arrangements. Phoebe, will you go instead of me?’

      ‘Will I what?’ uttered Phoebe in a shocked voice.

      ‘Go instead of me.’

      ‘How can I possibly? It couldn’t be done—it’s absurd—they’d find out.’

      ‘You know you’re dying to leave and get off night duty and try something else for a change. Well, here’s your chance.’

      ‘But I’m not you.’

      ‘Near enough, no one need know. No one’s ever seen us at the children’s hospital, nor in Delft, have they? Even if they had, we’re so alike.’

      ‘I thought you said the Dutch doctor had seen you?’

      ‘Pooh, him—he looked half asleep; I don’t think he even looked at me, and we were only together for a couple of minutes, and I hardly spoke.’ She added persuasively: ‘Do, darling Phoebe! It sounds mad, doesn’t it? but no one’s being harmed and it’s not really so silly. And don’t worry about the man, I doubt if he even noticed that I was a girl.’ She sounded scornful.

      ‘He sounds ghastly—I suppose he speaks English?’

      ‘So well that you know he’s not,’ explained her sister, ‘and he’s got those vague good manners …’

      ‘I’ll not do it,’ said Phoebe, and was horrified when Sybil burst into tears.

      ‘Oh, dear,’ she wailed through her sobs, ‘now I don’t know what I’ll do at least, I do. I shall run away and hide until Nick goes to Southampton and we’ll get married in one of those pokey register offices and n-no one will come to the w-wedding!’

      Phoebe sat watching her sister’s lovely face. Even while she cried she was beautiful and very appealing and she loved her dearly besides, she had promised her father that she would look after her. She said now: ‘Don’t cry, love —I’ll do it. I think it’s crazy and I’m not sure that if I’m caught I shan’t get sent to prison, but it’s only for a couple of months and if you don’t go someone else will, so it might as well be me. Only promise me that you’ll have a proper wedding, the sort Mother and Father would have liked you to have. And are you sure about Nick? I mean really sure —it’s for the rest of your life.’

      Sybil smiled at her through her tears. ‘Oh, Phoebe, I’m sure—I can’t explain, but when you love someone like I love Nick, you’ll know. You’re a darling! We’ll fix it all up while we’re here, shall we? Just you and me—Nick doesn’t know, I was so excited and happy I forgot to tell him and when I thought about it later I couldn’t. And Aunt Martha …’

      ‘We won’t tell anyone at all,’ said Phoebe. Now that she was resigned to the madcap scheme she found herself positively enjoying the prospect of a change of scene. ‘I’m quite mad to do it, of course. Now begin at the beginning and tell me exactly what it’s all about. Are you sure this doctor didn’t get a good look at you?’

      ‘Him? Lord, no, Phoebe. I told you, he’s the sleepy kind, eyes half shut—I should think that half the time he forgets where he is. You’ll be able to twist him round your little finger.’

      ‘What’s his name?’

      Sybil looked vague. ‘I can’t remember. I’ll find out for you, and the name of the hospital and where he lives and anything else I’m supposed to know.’

      ‘Which reminds me—I don’t know an awful lot about fibrocystic disease—hasn’t it got another name?’

      ‘Mucoviscidosis, and you can forget it. The treatment hasn’t changed much in the last year or so and you know quite enough about it—I remember telling me about several cases you had on the Children’s Unit …’

      ‘Three years ago,’ murmured Phoebe.

      ‘Yes, well … I’ll bring you up to date, and what does it matter anyway, for the whole idea is that I—you should be seconded to this hospital so that you can learn all about this man’s new ideas.’

      ‘And afterwards? Am I supposed to go back to St Elmer’s and spread the good news around?—then we are in the apple cart.’

      ‘No, nothing like that. I’m free to do what I like when I come back from Holland. As far as St Elmer’s goes, they think I’m giving in my notice so’s I can get a job somewhere else when I get back to England.’

      ‘My passport,’ hazarded Phoebe suddenly. ‘Supposing this man sees it? Or don’t we travel together when we go?’

      ‘Oh, yes, that’s all been arranged, but remember the British and the non-British split up when they get to the Customs. Anyway, he’s hardly likely to breathe over your shoulder, he’s not that sort.’

      ‘He sounds a dead bore,’ Phoebe said slowly. ‘I’m not sure …’

      ‘You promised —besides, there are bound to be other people around —housemen and so forth.’ She paused. ‘I say, there’s nothing serious between you and Jack, is there?’

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