what a nurse’s uniform will do on that score, and you will have work to do—general duties,’ he looked vague—’ and of course you will need to deal with any attacks which may crop up—one or two of the men are cardiac cases, but we will go into all that later. They warned you, I hope, that I’m an asthmatic myself with a touch of cardiac failure—I daresay you will be a lot busier than you think.’
He looked up as the door opened and Professor van Duyl came in, followed by a stocky, middle-aged man bearing a tray set neatly with a large coffee pot, milk, sugar and a selection of mugs. He set it down on a table which Professor van Duyl swept free of papers and books, smiled paternally at her, and disappeared discreetly. She wondered who he was, but as no one volunteered this information, she supposed him to be one of the staff, then forgot him as she poured the coffee.
She learned a good deal during the next hour; she liked Professor Wyllie, even though he did get carried away with his subject from time to time, leaving her a little out of her depth, and as for Professor van Duyl, he treated her with a tolerant amusement which annoyed her very much, while at the same time telling her all she would need to know. It was he who outlined her duties, gave her working hours and explained that the ten patients were housed very comfortably in a Nissen hut, left over from the war, and now suitably heated and furnished to supply a degree of comfort for its inmates.
‘Professor Wyllie and I sleep in this house, and so do those who work with us. We are connected by telephone to both the Nissen hut and your cottage, and although we hope that this will not be necessary, we should expect you to come immediately should you be asked for, day or night.’
She nodded; it seemed fair enough. ‘Is there someone on duty with the patients during the night?’ she wanted to know.
‘No—we believe there to be no need. They have but to telephone for help, neither will it be necessary for you to remain on duty all day; they are all of them up patients—indeed, if they were home, they would be working.’ He looked at Professor Wyllie. ‘Is there anything else you want to talk to Miss Proudfoot about?’ he asked. ‘Would it be a good idea if she were to go over to the cottage and settle in before lunch? You will need her all the afternoon, I take it—she will have to be taken through the case notes.’
Professor Wyllie nodded agreement. ‘A good idea—take her over, Christian, will you? Hub knows she’s here, he’ll be on the lookout presumably. Sheets and things,’ he added vaguely. For a moment he looked quite worried so that Eliza felt constrained to say in a rallying voice: ‘I shall be quite all right, sir. I’ll see you later.’
She walked beside the Dutchman down the hall and out of the door into a light drizzle of rain, casting round in her mind for a topic of conversation to bridge the silence between them, but she could think of nothing, and her companion strode along, deep in his own thoughts, so that she saw that any idea she might have about entertaining him with small talk was quite superfluous. They went round the side of the house and took a narrow muddy path which was overgrown with coarse grass and shrubs. There was a sharp bend in it after only a few yards, and the cottage stood before them. It was very small; a gardener’s house, or perhaps a game-keeper, she thought, looking at its low front door and the small square windows on either side of it.
Her companion produced a key, opened the door and stood aside for her to enter. It gave directly on to the sitting room, a surprisingly cheerful little apartment, with a window at the back and three doors leading from it. Professor van Duyl gave her no time to do more than glance around her, however, but went past her to open one of the doors.
‘Bedroom,’ he explained briefly, ‘bathroom next door, kitchen here.’ He swept open the third door. ‘You will eat with us, of course, although when you have your free days you may do as you wish. There’s a sitting room up at the house which you are welcome to use—there’s television there and books enough. Breakfast at eight, lunch at one—we don’t have tea, but Hub will fix that for you. Supper at eight, but that will depend on how the day has gone.’ He turned to go. ‘Hub will bring your case along in a minute and light the fire for you.’ He eyed her levelly. ‘And don’t get the idea that this a nice easy job—you’ll not only have the patients to see to but a good deal of paper work as well, and remember that you will be at our beck and call whether you’re off duty or not.’
Eliza eyed him coldly in her turn. ‘Charming! I’m not quite sure what you expected, but I’m not up to your expectations, am I? Well, I didn’t expect you and you’re not up to mine—I expected a nice old gentleman like Professor Wyllie, so at least we understand each other, don’t we, Professor?’ She walked towards the bedroom, saying over her shoulder:
‘I’ll see you at lunch. Thank you for bringing me over.’
She didn’t see the little gleam of appreciation in his dark eyes as he went. The door shut gently behind him and she dismissed him from her mind and began to explore her temporary home. It was indeed very small but extremely cosy, the furniture was simple and uncluttered and someone had put a bowl of hyacinths on the little table by one of the two easy chairs. There were nice thick curtains at the windows, she noticed with satisfaction, and a reading lamp as well as a funny old-fashioned lamp hanging from the ceiling. The bedroom was nice too, even smaller than the sitting room and furnished simply with a narrow bed, a chest of drawers and a mirror, with a shelf by the bed and a stool in one corner. There was no wardrobe or cupboard, though; presumably she would have to hang everything on the hooks behind the bedroom door. The kitchen was a mere slip of a place but adequately fitted out; she wouldn’t need to cook much, anyway, but it would be pleasant to make tea or coffee in the evenings before she went to bed. She was roused from her inspection by the rattle of the door knocker and when she called ‘come in’, the same elderly man who had brought the coffee tray came in with her case. He smiled at her, took it into the bedroom and then went to put a match to the fire laid ready in the tiny grate.
‘I can do that,’ exclaimed Eliza, and when he turned to shake his head at her: ‘You’re Hub, aren’t you? Are you Mr Hub, or is that your Christian name, and are you one of the staff?’
When he answered her she could hear that he wasn’t English, although he spoke fluently enough. ‘Yes, I’m Hub, miss—if you will just call me that—I’m one of the staff, as you say.’ He added a log to the small blaze he had started and got to his feet. ‘You will find tea and sugar and some other groceries in the kitchen cupboard, miss, and if you need anything, will you ask me and I will see that you get it.’
She thanked him and he went away; he was a kind of quartermaster, she supposed, seeing to food and drink and household supplies for all of them; she couldn’t imagine either of the professors bothering their clever heads about such things.
She remembered suddenly that she had promised that she would telephone her mother when she arrived; she would just have time before she went to lunch. She picked up the receiver, not quite believing that there would be anyone there to answer her, but someone did—a man’s voice with a strong Cockney accent, assuring her that he would get the number she wanted right away.
Her mother had a great many questions to ask; Eliza talked until five to one, and then wasn’t finished. With a promise to write that evening, she rang off, ran a comb through her hair, looked at her face in the mirror without doing anything to it because there wasn’t time and went back to the house.
Lunch, she discovered to her surprise, was a formal meal, taken in a comfortably furnished room at a table laid with care with good glass and china and well laundered table linen. There was another man there, of middle height and a little stout, pleasant-faced and in his late forties, she guessed. He was introduced as John Peters, the pharmacist and a Doctor of Science, and although he greeted her pleasantly if somewhat absentmindedly, he had little to say for himself. It was the two professors who sustained the conversation; a pleasant
