dismissed her future mother-in-law from her mind and attacked the prawns with relish, to have the edge taken off her appetite by Humphrey’s: ‘How splendid it would have been if Mother could have joined us.’
She smiled and agreed; he was a good son and she admired him for that. He would be a good husband too, she had no doubt, providing for her to the best of his ability, seeing that the children were decently educated… She said warmly: ‘I expect you’re disappointed and I am sure she is, but her bridge evening does mean a lot to her, doesn’t it? And this was the only evening we had free.’
He smiled at her and she thought again what a lucky girl she was to be loved by such a steady type. They ate their chicken talking comfortably and then got up to dance. The band was good and the floor not too crowded; Humphrey danced well even if without much imagination, and Eugenia had a chance to look around her. Her dress was definitely last year’s—the creations whirling past, worn by slender creatures with exquisitely made up faces and up-to-the-minute hair-styles, showed it up for what it was. It was the wrong colour for a start, anyone who read the fashion magazines would see that at once, and it was too high in front and by rights should have almost no back. Eugenia, not needing to think about Humphrey’s strictly conservative dancing, gave her mind to the vexed question of getting another dress. There was the Spring Ball in a few weeks’ time, so there was every excuse to have one…on the other hand, if Humphrey could do without things in order to save for the future, so could she. She looked over his shoulder straight into Mr Grenfell’s interested gaze.
He was with his fiancée; Eugenia recognised her at once, slim as a wand, not a hair out of place, perfect make-up and a dress such as she could never hope to possess. She gave him a cool smile and he opened his sleepy eyes and smiled back and then circled away. She noticed that he danced with the kind of nonchalant ease which reflected the way in which he did everything else.
Humphrey executed a correct turn. ‘I see Mr Grenfell’s here. That’s a remarkably pretty girl—she’s his fiancée, is she? I suppose she is. I must say he’s taken his time, he must be thirty-five if he’s a day.’
Eugenia said naughtily: ‘Perhaps he’s saving up…’
Humphrey’s sense of humour wasn’t quite a hundred per cent. ‘Oh, certainly not that; he’s very well off, I believe, one might say wealthy. Family money, you know.’
‘No, I didn’t know,’ Eugenia told him, ‘I’ve never been interested enough to think about it.’
He gave her hand a gentle squeeze. ‘You’re far too sensible a girl,’ he observed approvingly.
And that from Humphrey was a compliment.
Mr Grenfell, Eugenia was quick to observe, was at a table for two not so very far from their own table. After discovering that, she took great care not to look in that direction again, and since Humphrey declared that he was too tired to dance again and had a hard day ahead of him they left very shortly afterwards. Eugenia would have liked to have stayed until the small hours, but Humphrey needed his sleep, she knew that; his mother had explained at great length that unless he had his proper rest his health would suffer. She had stifled the remark that if that were the case, it would have been far better if he had never taken up medicine, a profession where sleep was sometimes sketchy to say the least, but she had agreed mildly, being a kind girl and wishing Mrs Parsons might like her and treat her as a daughter.
She got up at once and went to get her coat, and five minutes later was being driven back to St Clare’s. And once there, their goodnights were swiftly said—not that Humphrey’s kiss was not entirely satisfactory, but he showed no signs of lingering, only said briskly: ‘Get to bed, dear—you need a good sleep and so do I.’
All the same, she tried to keep him for a few minutes longer.
‘It was a lovely evening, Humphrey—I wish we could do it more often.’
‘Now don’t get ideas into your head!’ He was half laughing at her. ‘I’m not Grenfell, you know.’ He added slowly: ‘I must say his girl’s a charmer. Not that you’re so bad yourself—you could do with losing a few pounds, though. I’ll work out a diet for you.’ He patted her on a shoulder and got back into the car to take it round to the hospital garage, leaving her gibbering with rage. He had called her fat—not in so many words, but that was what he’d meant, and she wasn’t—her weight was exactly right for her size and her curves were in all the right places. She went slowly through the hospital on the way to her room, feeling miserable. She wanted to please Humphrey, so she supposed she would go on to the diet, although she thought that for a young woman of her size, extreme slenderness would look all wrong; she was a big girl, walking proudly and unselfconsciously, but she had the frame to take a nicely rounded body, wouldn’t she look silly if she were straight up and down, both back and front! She tumbled into bed and fell asleep with the problem unsolved.
She woke once in the night and remembered that she had forgotten to tell Humphrey that she wouldn’t be able to get off on Friday afternoon—she must remember to tell him in the morning.
She saw him briefly just after breakfast. He looked very handsome in his white coat and grey suit, and well turned out, but then he always did; he considered it important that he should look his best at all times. Eugenia had just taken the report and was noting the day’s work when he came down the ward and into her office, to give her a wry smile and say appreciatively, ‘You look nice—very neat too. Uniform suits you, Eugenia.’
She pushed her work on one side. ‘Compliments so early in the morning? You’ll turn my head! Do you want to see someone?’
‘Only you. I’ve written out a diet for you—you should lose at least half a stone in a month—it’s easy enough to follow even on the hospital food.’
Eugenia cast a quick eye down his neat writing. Of course it was easy to follow; all she had to do, as far as she could see, was drink milkless tea and eat oranges and lettuce. ‘Where’s the protein?’ she asked.
He leant over the desk. ‘Here—fish and the odd ounce of cheese and a potato every other day.’
‘I’ll give it a whirl,’ she told him. ‘But if you get me on Women’s Medical with anorexia nervosa, you’ll be to blame.’
He laughed. ‘You’ll be a knockout! You’ll have to take in the seams of your dress for the Spring Ball.’
She said seriously: ‘Oh, no—I shall buy a new one.’
He frowned. ‘That’s absurd—a new dress for just one dance…’
Eugenia nodded her beautiful head briskly. ‘That’s right—and now I really must do some work.’ She smiled enchantingly at him. ‘And when I’ve given out the post I’ll weigh myself.’
It was half an hour before she was back in the office. Giving out the morning’s post was by way of being a social round as well; she had already been to see the ill patients and wished the ward a general good morning, but now she went slowly from bed to bed, handing out letters, listening to complaints, gossiping gently, taking care to stay a little longer with those who had no post that day, staying even longer by the beds of the ill patients, making sure that everything was just as it should be.
Harry would be round presently and there were several patients to go to X-ray, quite a few for physiotherapy and two to be got ready to go home.
She sat down at the desk to check the operation list for the next day
