alone.’ And at her look: ‘Oh, you were safe enough, the porter knew where I was; he’s a friend of hers anyway, he promised to keep an eye on you.’
He didn’t look angry any more, only faintly amused and impatient.
‘And now, if you’ve finished your questioning, I’ll have a shower and shave and join you for breakfast.’ He caught her arm again. ‘You’ll oblige me by staying in your room until I come for you, and I’d like your promise on that.’
‘I never heard such nonsense!’ said Isobel impatiently. ‘You’ve just said the curfew is over.’
‘Your promise,’ he insisted in a voice she didn’t much like the sound of.
‘Oh, very well.’ She went with him up the stairs and when he took her key and opened her door, went past him without a word, only at the last minute she whizzed round and held out her hand.
Dr Winter put the key into it. He said softly: ‘You are, after all, my responsibility until we’re back in England.’
They breakfasted in a comfortable silence, broken only by polite requests to pass the salt, the toast or whatever. Dr Winter’s face had lost its greyness; he was freshly shaved, impeccably dressed and very calm. Isobel, taking a quick peep, asked when she should go to Mrs Olbinski.
‘We’ll go together,’ he told her, ‘and while you’re helping her to dress I’ll go and see if her papers are in order. If so we can leave on the evening boat.’
Isobel had just coaxed Mrs Olbinski into the last of her garments when he returned to say that there would be no papers until the following morning. ‘So we may as well spend the day sightseeing,’ he finished. ‘Where would you like to go, Nanny?’
‘Oliwa,’ she said at once, ‘to listen to the organ recital—it’s at twelve noon, I believe.’
They had coffee first in the hotel coffee room and then got into the car and drove the few miles to Oliwa. The Cathedral was magnificent—twelfth century, with Renaissance Baroque and Rococo added from time to time. The doctor parked the car and they began the slow progress to its entrance with Mrs Olbinski in the middle, insisting that she would rather die than be carried. The interior was splendid, with a high vaulted roof, painted with stars and hung with the Polish flag and with old-fashioned pews, already well filled. They found seats near the back, and presently the recital started with a disembodied voice explaining in English what music would be played and the history of the Cathedral, ending with the advice to turn round and look at the organ at the back of the Cathedral when the organist broke into particularly loud music. Isobel, with Mrs Olbinski’s old hand in hers, only half listened. This was the real Poland, she thought, here in church, with the flag hanging on either side of the chancel and the quiet people sitting in the pews around her. The organ began then and she sat for half an hour, as still as a mouse, listening until the organist suddenly broke into a tremendous volume of sound. It was Dr Winter who leaned across Mrs Olbinski and touched her arm. ‘Look behind you,’ he said softly.
The organ, a massive eighteenth-century instrument, had come alive. The figures carved on it, angels with harps, trumpets, violins and flutes, were moving with the music, playing their instruments. The doctor’s hand was still on her arm; she clutched it tightly and only when the music finally faded did she let it go, dropping it like a hot coal when she realised she had been clinging to it. ‘So sorry,’ she whispered, very pink, and was hardly reassured by his inscrutable face.
They went back to Gdansk for lunch, eating it at the Pod Wieza restaurant, and when they had finished, the doctor left them there, saying he would be back presently.
He was back within half an hour, during which time Isobel and Mrs Olbinski had had several cups of coffee and a good gossip. ‘We can leave this evening,’ he told them. He glanced at his watch. ‘We’ll go back to the hotel and get our things and pay the bill, then go to your place, Nanny. From there we can go down to the quay.’
Mrs Olbinski tried not to show her excitement but her old hands shook. ‘You’re sure, Mr Thomas? Everything’s in order?’
‘Yes, Nanny, we’ll have you home in a couple of days now.’ He smiled at her gently and took out a handkerchief and wiped her eyes for her. Oh, dear, thought Isobel; he is so nice when he’s not being absolutely abominable!
Nice he might be to Nanny, but he allowed none of his finer feelings to show where Isobel was concerned. In businesslike tones he told her what had to be done, and she was kept busy, once they reached the old lady’s rooms, parcelling up the things, which were to go to her neighbour, making tea for the three of them, and packing a small bag with essentials for the journey for both herself and Mrs Olbinski.
After tea the doctor took back the hired car, found a taxi and started on the slow business of loading Nanny and her few possessions into it. The old lady was fretful from excitement and tiredness by now and hindered every move. It was with a sigh of relief that Isobel saw the ferry at last, and even then she wasn’t completely happy until they were actually stepping off the gangway on to the ship. Nanny was in tears again. She had, after all, lived in Poland for a long time and was leaving a life she had loved until the more recent years. Isobel coaxed her down to their cabin, got her undressed and into one of the bunks, and rang the bell for the stewardess. A large cheerful Swedish woman came at once; listening sympathetically she promised a light supper within the hour. Isobel unpacked the few things they needed for the night, talked Mrs Olbinski into a quiet frame of mind and when the supper came, sat down. Dr Winter hadn’t said anything about her own meal and she wasn’t sure if she wasn’t supposed to have it in the cabin too. She was trying to decide what to do next when he knocked on the door and came in.
He enquired after Nanny’s wellbeing and assured her that the stewardess would come the moment she was rung for, and invited Isobel with cold courtesy to join him at dinner. ‘We’ll go now and have a drink,’ he concluded without giving her a chance to say anything.
So she followed him to the deck above, drank the sherry he invited her to have and sat down to dinner. He had little to say for himself, and she was glad of that; such a lot had happened in the last two days, she wanted to think about them.
However, over coffee he said suddenly: ‘I think we may have to stay a couple of days in Stockholm,’ and at her look of delight, added dryly: ‘Not for sightseeing. Nanny is worn out and I’m not happy about continuing our journey until she has had a good rest.’
Isobel blushed. ‘Yes, of course—she’s been marvellous. It must have been pretty nerve-racking for her. I’ll keep her in bed and get her to rest as much as possible.’ She added: ‘She won’t like it.’
He passed his cup for more coffee. ‘That’s your business, Nurse. At least she likes you and will probably do as you ask.’
She said cheerfully: ‘Let’s hope so, I’ll do my best, Dr Winter.’ She put her cup down. ‘Thank you for my dinner—I’m going back to the cabin now. I’ll see that Mrs Olbinski is ready by the time we get to Stockholm—she can have her breakfast early and that will give us plenty of time.’
‘You’ll breakfast here?’
She said matter-of-factly: ‘No, thanks, I’ll have coffee and something when Mrs Olbinski does. Where are we to meet you in the morning?’
‘I’ll come for you.’ He got up as she prepared to leave. ‘Goodnight, Nurse.’
She gave him a friendly nod. ‘Goodnight, Dr Winter.’
He
