The Quiet Professor Page 10

  ‘Would you like a cup of tea—or coffee?’ She let the cat out of his basket. ‘Thank you very much for taking me home and bringing me back. It was a lovely day.’

  He stood looking at her. He nodded and said to surprise her, ‘You’re still not quite cured, are you? Sleep well, Megan.’ At the door he turned. ‘I too found it a lovely day. Goodnight.’

  She didn’t see him for the next few days and then it was a brief visit in response to Mr Bright’s urgent request that he should confer with him on the ward. He came into the ward silently, his white coat open, its pockets bulging with papers. He looked remote and meeting his cold eyes and responding politely to his distant, ‘Good morning, Sister,’ Megan quite understood why the nurses held him in awe; it was hard to reconcile him with the man who had stood in Mrs Slocombe’s shop meekly answering Mrs Thomson’s questions.

  She did see a lot of Oscar, though. Now that he had got over the initial awkwardness of breaking off their engagement he waylaid her whenever he could and talked about Melanie, delegating her to the role of future sister-in-law willing to listen to his plans for the future and Melanie’s perfection. Megan agreed with him; Melanie was a darling, and to see her happy made Megan happy too, but she found it wearing listening to plans which she and Oscar might have been making for their own future. Not that she wished to marry him; indeed, she realised now that what she had felt for him had been only a strong attraction and a deep affection. She still had the affection for he was a man willing to like everyone, with an even temper and good-natured. Just right for Melanie. She began to think that it wasn’t such a bad idea to find another job. Make a clean break and start again, she told Meredith as she let herself into her flat after meeting Oscar as she was going off duty and listening to his account of the weekend he and Melanie had enjoyed at his parents’ home. Melanie had been a great success, he told her with pride.

  ‘Which is more than I was,’ said Megan, addressing Meredith once again since there was no one else to talk to. ‘In fact I don’t think I’m a success with anyone.’

  Meredith, gobbling his supper, took no notice, but he lifted his head when the door-knocker was thumped and Megan, her head inside the small kitchen cupboard, deciding what she would have for her supper, withdrew it rapidly and went to answer it. It was no good looking out of the window, for, being a basement, it afforded her a view of feet and not much else, but the knock had sounded urgent; it would be someone from the hospital, she supposed, although they could have phoned her—one of her friends at a loose end and wanting supper. She opened the door and found the professor blocking the daylight.

  ‘Oh,’ said Megan, and then, ‘Good evening, Professor.’

  ‘I wish to talk to you,’ he glanced round him, ‘but not here. Perhaps you would come with me and I will give you a meal.’

  ‘What about?’

  ‘If you will come with me I will tell you.’

  She could hear impatience in his quiet voice; all the same she persisted, ‘I was just about to get my supper.’

  He went past her and looked into the alcove she called the kitchen. His raised eyebrows questioned the lack of any food. ‘I was getting it out of the cupboard,’ said Megan snappishly, ‘and why I should have to explain all this to you I really don’t know.’

  He said mildly, ‘You will do very well as you are; just get a jacket. We aren’t going far.’

  ‘I don’t…’ She caught his eye and mumbled, ‘Oh, well, if you insist. Has something awful happened at the hospital? I sent up all the specimens you wanted.’

  ‘If it had been something to do with your work or your ward I would have seen you at the hospital.’

  He wasn’t going to budge. She got her jacket, advised Meredith to be a good boy and then said quietly, ‘I’m ready.’

  He ushered her out, locked the door and stowed her neatly into the car, waved politely to the various heads peering from neighbouring windows and drove off, into the Mile End Road, through the city and the King’s Road, over Putney Bridge and so into Richmond.

  ‘Why have you brought me here?’ asked Megan. They had hardly spoken during the journey; the professor had been friendly enough but deep in thought and she hadn’t minded, she had plenty to think about herself.

  ‘I live here.’ He had turned away from the main streets and was driving along a quiet road with large terraced houses overlooking the river. He stopped at the end house, got out and opened her door and invited her to get out too. He did it with a calm air but he said nothing more and she paused on the pavement to ask, ‘Why didn’t you tell me? Is it a secret or something?’

  ‘I suspect that if I had told you I was taking you to my house you might have refused to come.’

  ‘You’re quite right.’

  He smiled, ‘You see?’ He put a hand on her elbow. ‘Shall we go in? I’m hungry—I hope you are too.’

  He opened the door and ushered her into a small vestibule and at the same time the inner door was opened by a stout little man with a fringe of white hair and small twinkly eyes. He was dressed neatly in a black jacket and striped trousers and bade the professor good evening before bowing to Megan and repeating his greeting in a dignified voice.

  ‘This is Thrumble,’ said the professor. ‘He and his wife look after me. Miss Rodner has come for dinner, Thrumble, tell Mrs Thrumble and take Miss Rodner’s jacket if you please.’

  Megan cast the professor a reproachful look. It was bad enough being whisked away at a moment’s notice; it was even worse to find oneself in an elderly cotton top and a jersey skirt she kept strictly for evenings at home. She would have looked delightful in a paper bag, but even if anyone had told her so it would have been cold comfort.

  An arm under her elbow, the professor urged her across the hall and into a room with vast windows overlooking the river. It was furnished with beautifully polished cabinets along one wall, a magnificent long-case clock in one corner, a rosewood sofa table behind a vast sofa upholstered in plum-coloured velvet and a very beautiful mahogany rent table between the windows, which were curtained in plum-coloured brocade, and here and there there were tripod tables with a lamp each, arranged beside comfortable armchairs.

  Megan took it all in slowly. ‘You don’t live here, do you?’ She blushed because it was a silly question. ‘What I mean is—all alone?’ Which was even worse.

  The professor offered her a chair and went to the fireplace and stirred the logs in it with an elegant and extremely large foot. There was a tabby cat sitting before the fire and he bent and stroked it.

  ‘Yes, I live here alone—except for the excellent Thrumbles. I inherited the house a long time ago and when I’m in England I live here. It is too large, I must admit, but that can be easily remedied.’

  ‘Oh, of course, when your wife and children live here.’ She was conscious that that troubled her.

  ‘As you say, when my wife and children live here.’

  He sat down in an armchair near her and she said matter-of-factly, ‘You wanted to talk to me about something.’

  ‘Yes. You need to get away, Megan, you know that, don’t you? I think that I can help you. I am on the board of an orphanage in Holland, forty children, boys and girls between the ages of three months and twelve years…’ She opened her mouth to speak and he lifted a large, well kept hand. ‘No, let me finish. It is well staffed but one of the girls is going to Canada in a fortnight’s time to visit her family; she will be gone for six weeks or so and her place will need to be filled—some
thing you could do quite competently while you decide what you want to do next.’

  ‘I don’t speak or understand a word of Dutch.’

  ‘Babies respond to any language and toddlers too, and all the staff know enough English for you to get by. The salary is less than you are getting at Regent’s but the orphanage is very quietly situated—you would have little to spend your money upon—it’s north of Amsterdam, on the coast. A small village near the seaside town of Castricum. The older children go to the village school but you would have most to do with the infants and toddlers. You would get normal off-duty hours but only one day a week and as I said the job is for six weeks or so.’ He got up. ‘Think about it while I get you a drink—sherry?’

  She accepted the glass he offered. ‘I can’t make up my mind at the drop of a hat. In any case, I’m not sure that it is a good idea. Besides, you’ve taken me by surprise.’

  ‘I intended to. Have you had a busy day on the ward?’

  She said that yes she had and added, ‘And what am I supposed to do when the six weeks is up?’

  ‘I have always thought that it is best to cross one’s bridges when one comes to them. Ah, here is Thrumble to tell us that dinner is ready.’

  He ushered her out of the room and across the hall into another smaller room, also overlooking the river. It was handsomely furnished with a round mahogany table capable of seating eight persons. The chairs were mahogany too, as was the sideboard which took up almost all of one wall. The walls were hung with pale green silk and there were a great many gilt-framed pictures on the walls. The curtains were of a darker green velvet lined with dark red and tied back with red cords which matched the carpet exactly. Megan thoroughly approved of the room, just as she admired the white damask on the table and the shining silver and glass.

  Mrs Thrumble was an excellent cook. She served up watercress soup, grilled sole and castle puddings with a wine sauce, and since Megan was hungry she did justice to all of these while maintaining a conversation about this and that which had nothing to do with the professor’s surprising offer, and he for his part made no mention of it. Tiresome man, she reflected as she poured the coffee in the drawing-room; she supposed that she would have to bring the subject up. She was going to refuse, of course…

  He cut across her thoughts. ‘Have you any leave due to you?’

  ‘Well, yes, about three weeks—I had to cancel a week in February because Jenny was ill and we were busy. I’m to have it added on to the two weeks I’m due.’

  ‘Which means that you can leave at the end of a week.’

  ‘Who said that I was going to leave?’ snapped Megan.

  ‘I did, because you know that that is what you want to do, only you’re afraid to do it—to leave your comfortable rut and try your hand at something new.’

  He smiled as he spoke and she had an urge to fling herself at him and pour out all her worries and woes. She said hesitantly, ‘Do you really think that it’s a good idea?’

  ‘I wouldn’t have suggested it unless I thought that, but you must make up your own mind, Megan.’

  ‘I need to know a whole lot more about the job,’ she told him.

  ‘Of course. Pour us both more coffee and I will tell you.’

  He had all the details at his fingertips and a satisfactory answer to all her questions. It might be a good idea, she mused, and no less than four people had told her that she should leave Regent’s…

  ‘Meredith,’ she said suddenly.

  ‘Your parents might look after him? Or, if not, he could be absorbed into this household without any trouble, I fancy. Tibby is Mrs Thrumble’s cat, a mild old lady who will be glad of company, and if you return he can always rejoin you wherever you are.’

  ‘You have an answer for everything,’ said Megan peevishly.

  ‘I do my humble best. I am going over to Holland in ten days’ time, so you could travel with me if you wish. Let me know in the morning—what is it you say here? Sleep on it.’ He sat back in his chair with the air of a man prepared to enjoy a pleasant half-hour. ‘Tell me, when are Melanie and Oscar to be married?’ he enquired gently.

  He took her home presently but he didn’t stay, only as she was seeing him out of the door after uttering her thanks he swooped suddenly and kissed her. For some reason that decided her to take the job he had offered her.

  CHAPTER SIX

  MEREDITH was good enough to rouse himself and listen while Megan explained that it was possible that he would shortly be going to a new home. ‘It’s only temporary,’ she pointed out. ‘When I come back I’ll get another job and you can come back. I shall miss you.’ She gave him a hug and he growled in protest but when she was in bed presently he sidled up to curl himself neatly beside her. He was a great comfort.

  She wasn’t sure how to get a message to the professor. She could write a note, she supposed, and leave it at the porter’s lodge, but that didn’t seem polite. On the other hand she was far too busy to go to the path. lab. and tell him in person; besides, if he was busy too he would give her short shrift. The problem was solved for her by Mr Bright, who, during his ward-round, demanded some path. lab. results not yet in the patient’s notes. ‘Phone Professor van Belfeld, Megan, and see if they are ready, will you?’

  The professor’s, ‘Van Belfeld. Yes?’ sounded coldly in her ear. She gave him Mr Bright’s message and was told that the reports would be sent down at once. ‘Tell Mr Bright that they are not complete—I’ll see him about that later.’

  Her, ‘Thank you, sir,’ was cut short. ‘Are you going to accept the job at the orphanage?’ he asked.

  ‘Well, really,’ began Megan, ‘I’m busy and Mr Bright is waiting…’

  ‘It takes seconds only to say yes or no,’ he sounded quite mild.

  She said yes in a cross voice and the moment after wished she hadn’t. It was most unfair of him to rush her like that… ‘I shall come and see you this evening,’ he said, and put the phone down.

  She sailed down the ward to where Mr Bright was waiting, her colour high, her dark eyes flashing. Mr Bright looked at her over his glasses. ‘Have you been rubbed up the wrong way? Are the reports not available yet?’

  ‘They are being sent down now, sir, and there is nothing the matter, thank you.’

  ‘A flash of temper suits you, Megan,’ observed Mr Bright, and Megan, whose warm cheeks had begun to cool, pinkened again under the eyes of the registrar and the house surgeon. Men! thought Megan, becoming all at once the efficient, professional ward sister.

  The round over and Mr Bright speeded on his way with his various assistants, she went into her office and sat down. There were ten minutes or so before the dinner trolleys would arrive; she could start on the next fortnight’s off-duty list. She picked up her pen and put it down; the wretched man was coming that evening and she would have to offer him coffee at least. She had eaten the last of the biscuits, too. She had planned a salad for her supper and there was ham in the fridge—a good thing too, for she had no idea at what time he would arrive and with a cold meal she could have it ready in a few minutes once he had gone. She had done nothing about the off-duty list when Jenny came to warn her that dinners were ready to serve.

  Jenny was off duty that afternoon. Megan asked, ‘Are you going out, Jenny?’ and, when she said yes, asked, ‘Will you buy me some biscuits? I haven’t a single one left and the shop’s always so crowded by the time I get to it. Anything will do—rich tea or digestive.’

 
‘Entertaining?’ asked Jenny.

  Megan was adjusting her cap in front of the looking glass and didn’t look at her. ‘Hardly, with biscuits like that, but people do pop in sometimes for a cup of coffee and you can be sure that they’ll come when I’ve not a crumb to give them.’ She went into the ward, served the dinners and then went to her own meal, where she joined in a discussion about the newest fashions with such light-heartedness that her friends there came to the conclusion that she had made a good recovery from Oscar.

  ‘Although,’ said one of them after she had gone back to her ward, ‘Megan looked as though she was—well, excited about something.’

  Megan, on the other hand was resolutely refusing to be excited; she had, she considered, been bullied into accepting a job she didn’t want. If she left Regent’s then it would be to another job as good as, or better than, the one she had now. She would tell the professor so when he came that evening. She was too busy to think up any suitable speeches during the afternoon but as she went off duty, armed with the rich tea biscuits, she tried out several beautifully worded refusals. At home, attending to the cat’s wants while the kettle boiled for a cup of tea, she practised them out loud. She would take care to remain calm and polite and remember to thank him for his interest and she would offer him a cup of coffee and one of the biscuits. Having got her plans nicely sorted out, she put the cups and saucers ready on a tray, put a saucepan of milk ready on the cooker and arranged the biscuits on a plate. She ate two of them with her tea; supper might be hours away.