Heidelberg Wedding Page 12

  ‘I hope you enjoy your holiday, sir.’

  He stared down at her. Presently he nodded and went away.

  The week crawled by. For once the ward wasn’t unduly busy and Eugenia got off duty on time. True to her resolve, she managed to avoid Humphrey for the greater part of it, although on the Saturday she committed herself to spending the evening with him.

  The weather was splendid for early May and she got into the blue suit and a silk blouse, wondering where they would go. It was quite true—that old adage about absence making the heart grow fonder; it would be lovely to spend an evening together. The cinema, she wondered, or a meal out in some modest restaurant? She found a bag to match the new shoes, gave a final glance in the looking glass, and went out to the car park where the residents’ cars were parked. To reach it she had to pass the area set aside for the consultants’ cars. The end square was empty, the Bentley wasn’t there. She hadn’t expected it to be, but suddenly she wished very much to be in the Algarve again. With hindsight, she saw that it had been a very happy time, even though she had been run off her feet. And yet, she recalled, she hadn’t been able to wait to get back to London and Humphrey. There was no time to puzzle that one out; Humphrey was sitting in the car, sounding his horn in impatient little blasts.

  Eugenia got in beside him and saw with relief that he looked pleased to see her. So he had got over his ill-humour; bent on keeping it that way, she enquired after his week.

  ‘Extremely busy; I seem to be taking on more and more work.’ He spoke importantly and she asked:

  ‘Oh, why is that?’

  ‘There’s a houseman off sick. Someone has to do the routine work—I have to cope with that as well as my own.’

  He didn’t ask her about her own week and after a moment she asked cheerfully: ‘Where are we going? It’s nice to have a whole special evening to ourselves.’

  Humphrey started the car. ‘As a matter of fact, Mother has some of the family staying with her—cousins and my aunt and uncle. You’ve not met them yet—I thought that it would be a good opportunity to get to know them.’

  She said uncertainly: ‘But, Humphrey, we haven’t seen each other all week…’

  ‘My dear girl, we’re fortunately in a position to take our engagement at a sober pace so that we don’t have to fall into the depths of despair if we’re unable to see each other every day, or even every other day.’ He laughed a little and patted her knee. ‘You really must grow up, Eugenia.’

  A not very satisfactory answer, but one which she had to be content with.

  They were welcomed effusively by Mrs Parsons, and Eugenia was left for a moment while Humphrey greeted a mild-looking elderly man, a thin, severe-looking woman who she suspected was his wife, and two young women in their thirties. They were both plain, although they need not have been if they had changed their hair-styles and done something to their faces. They stared at Eugenia until Humphrey introduced them all—Uncle Tom, Aunt Iris and Vera and Claudia. They shook hands, and Mrs Parsons cried in her girlish fashion: ‘This is my dear little daughter-in-law-to-be—a nurse, you know, at St Clare’s—so nice that she can take an interest in Humphrey’s work.’

  Eugenia pinned a smile to her face. Mrs Parsons had managed to make her sound inferior to everyone in the room. To call her little was stupid for a start, she loomed several inches over Mrs Parsons, and she was a Ward Sister, way past the elementary chores Mrs Parson’s words had conjured up.

  And Humphrey could have said something, but he merely stood there smiling; she would have something to say to him later on.

  In the meanwhile there was a glass of sherry to drink while she made a slow-moving conversation with one of the cousins, and then supper, sitting between Uncle Tom and the other cousin—an elaborate meal, with Mrs Parsons explaining in a die-away voice just how long it had taken her to shop for each item they ate, and the unsparing efforts made to offer some of her most cherished recipes to her guests.

  They drank their coffee in the drawing room—a dreadful beverage, tepid and not entirely free from grounds—and made more polite conversation. The evening was almost over when Eugenia realised that she hadn’t spoken to Humphrey at all. Her relief was great when he said importantly that he was on call at midnight and that they would have to leave. ‘I have to be ready for any emergency,’ he added impressively. ‘You’re ready, Eugenia?’

  More than ready. She went the round of the Parsons family, aware of their indifference to her. Perhaps they would get to like her when they knew her better—once she and Humphrey were married. She kissed Mrs Parsons dutifully and got into the car beside Humphrey, listening to her last-minute instructions about clean socks and making sure to eat enough and get all the sleep possible.

  He got into the car, laughing a little. ‘I hope you’ll look after me as well as Mother does,’ she heard him say lightly.

  ‘That won’t terribly matter if she’s living with us,’ said Eugenia tartly, a remark which called forth nothing but a pained silence until they reached the hospital. As they got out of the car, he said: ‘You’re very irritable, Eugenia—perhaps you need a holiday. Couldn’t you arrange one?’

  He spoke with a forbearance which set her teeth on edge, and certainly did nothing to improve her temper. They were standing beside the car, she to go round to the front entrance, and he to go through the small side door which gave on to the residents’ quarters. ‘I was looking forward to our evening,’ she said. ‘Do you know, you didn’t speak to me the whole time?’

  He smiled at her. ‘I haven’t seen my cousins for some time—I can see you whenever I like, within reason.’

  Which reply made Eugenia’s beautiful eyes glitter with unusual temper. She bit back words she longed to utter, although they almost choked her. She turned on her heel and walked away without a backward glance, round the side of the building and in through the entrance.

  Mr Grenfell was standing just inside the door, gazing at nothing just above her head. He lowered his gaze and allowed a look of surprise to show on his handsome face. ‘Ah, Eugenia—a pleasant evening, I hope?’ He looked at the thin gold watch on his wrist. ‘But rather early, isn’t it?’

  She said through her teeth, not caring any more: ‘Humphrey is on call at midnight.’

  ‘But it’s barely half past nine.’ His heavy lids dropped even lower. ‘Have you been having words again?’

  ‘Words? Words?’ she glared at him. ‘He’s not spoken to me all the evening—all those beastly cousins…’ Her bosom heaved with strong emotion, and Mr Grenfell took her arm and turned her round and walked her out of the hospital again. ‘You need to get this off your chest,’ he observed in a positively fatherly voice. ‘We’ll go somewhere and have a cup of coffee.’

  There was a café of sorts across the street, which while lacking the luxurious look of its better class fellows, served simple meals, well cooked, and excellent coffee and tea. Mr Grenfell urged her gently through the door and sat her down at one of the plastic-covered tables. The place was fairly full and rang with cheerful voices all talking at once.

  ‘Ideal,’ murmured Mr Grenfell. ‘Have you had a meal?’

  ‘I had supper at Humphrey’s mother’s house.’ She tried to sound casual about it, but her voice was wobbly with temper still.

  ‘Just so. How about a pot of tea, buttered teacakes and jam? I like jam.’

  Eugenia said wistfully, temper for the moment forgotten: ‘I used to make jam with Mother. We had a big garden—red-currants and plums and gooseberries and strawberries and raspberries.’

  ‘The kind of garden children should grow up in,’ said Mr Grenfell softly. ‘I did.’

  ‘Yes. Is there a kitchen garden at your house?’

  ‘A small one, but we had—still have—a cottage in the country.’ He paused to give the order to the restaurant’s proprietor. ‘Now, Eugenia, suppose you tell me all about it, you’ll feel better if you do—regard me as in loco parentis if you wish.’

  ‘You’re no
t that old,’ she declared, and then: ‘Are you?’

  ‘Going steadily downhill towards forty,’ he observed placidly. ‘I quite thought that you’d made it up with Humphrey.’

  ‘Well, yes—at least, I kept away from him for almost a week, and when he said we’d go out this evening I thought it would be to a restaurant or the flicks—just us, you know, but instead of that we went to his mother’s and there were these cousins and an uncle and aunt…! If I’d known perhaps I wouldn’t have minded so much.’ She paused while the tea and the teacakes were put on the table. ‘It’s just that I was very disappointed.’

  Mr Grenfell offered her a teacake, butter and jam, and observed comfortably: ‘The course of true love never did run smooth, Eugenia.’

  She poured their tea and handed him the cup and saucer. ‘Have I been silly?’ she wanted to know. ‘Humphrey said I was irritable and that a holiday might make me feel better.’

  ‘Do you want a holiday?’

  She thought about it, sinking her strong white teeth into the buttery teacake. ‘No, I don’t think I do. What good would it be anyway? You see, if I’m busy I don’t have much time to think…’

  Mr Grenfell gave her a bright glance from under his lids. ‘In that case follow your own inclinations. Are you tired?’

  She shook her head. ‘But I daresay I shall be by the time I get back. It was kind of you…I’m grateful. It was nice to have someone to talk to.’

  ‘I’m not tired either.’ He had ignored her floundering thanks. ‘I feel the need of movement—fresh air. Would you care to come for a drive? The car’s at St Clare’s. It’s a splendid night and not cold, and I’ll have you back by midnight?’

  It was ten o’clock already. ‘Where should we go?’ she asked.

  ‘Oh, a short run, into Essex—the rural Essex.’

  Prudence took over briefly. ‘I don’t really think—’ she began, and stopped when she saw that he was amused, so that prudence had no chance. ‘I’d like that,’ she said.

  The streets were fairly quiet by now. They went back and got into the Bentley and drove down the Mile End Road, through Manor Park and the East End streets to Romford where he turned off to pick up the road to Chipping Ongar and then on to Great Bardfield. They were on minor roads now, with almost no traffic, and presently Eugenia asked: ‘Do you know this road very well?’

  ‘Yes. We’re almost at the cottage where I spend what time I can spare.’

  They had reached Great Bardfield, and now he turned the car into a country road. ‘Little Bardfield,’ he told her. ‘The cottage is just before the village.’ He added: ‘The lilac should be out.’

  He stopped the car about a mile further on and got out and opened the door for her. It was a lovely night with a moon shining from a starry sky. Eugenia could see the cottage clearly. It wasn’t really a cottage, but a fair-sized thatched house, surrounded by a stone and brick wall and screened by trees. Its windows were latticed and those upstairs peeped from heavy thatched eyebrows.

  They crossed the road and stood at the gate, looking at it.

  ‘Nice?’ asked Mr Grenfell.

  ‘Lovely! How can you bear not to live here?’ She added hastily: ‘Though your house in Chelsea is lovely too.’

  ‘I spend quite a lot of time here.’ He was leaning on the gate beside her. ‘Pringle and Mrs Pringle come with me, and the animals, of course, and there’s a woman in the village who comes in regularly to see that everything is as it should be. Can you smell the lilac?’

  ‘Yes.’ She sniffed appreciatively. ‘Lilac trees here and a bluebell wood.’

  He opened the gate. ‘Stay there if you like.’ He had gone down the path before she could answer him, to reappear a few minutes later. ‘The bluebells are over for this year, but perhaps this will do instead,’ he said, and put an armful of lilac into her arms. ‘Now we’d better get back.’

  Eugenia got back into the car and he put the lilac on the back seat, got in beside her and started the car. Eugenia had quite forgotten that she had been filled with rage only a few hours before, and she felt content and a little sleepy. ‘This is heavenly, Mr Grenfell,’ she said gratefully.

  ‘Off and on I’m Gerard—I hope it’s an on evening.’

  She laughed a little. ‘All right, Gerard, only I must remember to call you Mr Grenfell at the hospital.’

  ‘You sound sleepy! Close your eyes.’

  ‘It’s not very sociable,’ she objected.

  ‘We’re past that stage,’ he said quietly, and she sat pondering that as they drove back down the narrow road, through Great Bardfield again and on towards London. Long before they reached its outskirts she had closed her eyes and slept.

  She woke as he turned into the hospital entrance. ‘What you must think of me!’ she began contritely. ‘I’m sorry—what a bore for you…’

  ‘No. Driving with someone sleeping peacefully beside one is very soothing.’ He gave her an intent look. ‘Do you feel better?’

  ‘Oh, yes—yes, I do, Gerard. Somehow you’ve blown all the bogies away. I’ve been very silly, and I’ll tell Humphrey so when I see him.’

  He opened her door and she got out and waited while he got the lilac.

  ‘Thank you for a lovely evening—and these.’ She touched the flowers with a gentle finger. She stared up at him. ‘I think you’re very wise.’

  ‘Not particularly, but I have unbounded patience. You might remember that, Eugenia. Goodnight!’

  She woke in the night, aware of the sweet smell of the lilac she had put in her washbasin. When she woke in the morning she couldn’t remember what she had thought then, only that she had felt very happy. The feeling persisted all day, through the routine of the ward and Harry’s visits and dealing with the relatives who came pouring in after dinner. It was Hatty’s weekend, and she had chosen to take an hour or two off in the morning, because someone had to be available to talk to anyone who wanted to know how their wives and mothers and daughters were getting on.

  There had been no sign of Humphrey, but she hadn’t expected to see him. Even if they had parted on the best of terms he would be busy on the medical side if he was on call and probably far too tired to spend half an hour together once they were off duty. It didn’t seem right, somehow, she mused, pausing, her pen positioned over the laundry list. Surely when you were in love you wanted to spend every second with each other, even if you were too tired to talk? Or was that just romantic nonsense?

  She went back to her list, the happiness she had felt all day oozing away. She must, she decided, have a talk with Humphrey. The trouble was that they didn’t have enough time together to talk, discuss things, get their future settled for once and for all.

  It was the middle of the week before she had the chance to spend an hour or two with him. Monday had been quiet, admitting patients, discharging others, and on Tuesday Mr Grenfell had done his round, remotely polite, treating her with his usual courtesy but displaying no interest in her as a person. She found it hard to believe, as she accompanied him from bed to bed, that this was the man who had driven her through the moonlight and filled her arms with lilac. She matched his manner with her own, coolly friendly and professional, so that Hatty, who had once or twice lately thought that they were becoming friends at last, decided she had made a mistake. It quite upset her, especially as the new house surgeon had asked her out, and being a little in love herself, she wanted everyone else to be as happy as she was.

  Eugenia was free on Wednesday evening and so was Humphrey. She had waited all day for him to phone and arrange to meet her, but by five o’clock she realised she would have to be the first to offer the olive branch. He was knee-deep in forms and notes, he told her when she rang, but he would meet her at the hospital entrance at half past seven. He had sounded a little terse, but she put that down to the amount of work he had to do. They could walk across the road to the café, have a meal and talk; it wouldn’t be busy at that hour and they would be able to sit there for as long as they liked.
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  It was a bright evening, still cool, but the sky was blue, already tinged with a splendid sunset. Eugenia showered and changed without haste, filled in time by phoning home, and then went down to the entrance.

  Humphrey wasn’t there. She passed the time of day with the porter on duty and then leant against his cubbyhole reading the evening paper he had lent her.

  There were people coming and going all the time, but she didn’t look up. Humphrey would come from the hospital, through one of the corridors at the back of the entrance hall. But she couldn’t help but recognise the firm tread of Mr Grenfell’s large well-shod feet as he came through the doors.

  ‘That’s a funny way to spend the evening,’ he commented, coming to a halt by her.

  ‘Waiting for Humphrey,’ she explained. ‘I daresay he’s been held up.’

  Mr Grenfell stood looking down at her. Doctor Parsons had been off duty for at least an hour; he’d been in the Common Room when he had gone there himself to speak to Harry. He didn’t mention the fact, but said smoothly: ‘Well, enjoy your evening together.’ He turned away and then retraced his steps. ‘There’s a case coming in tomorrow morning—I’ve just been to look at her. She’ll be a lobectomy, I fancy. There’s a bed?’

  ‘Oh, yes. Thanks for letting me know.’ She smiled at him, unaware that Humphrey had just entered the hall and was coming slowly towards them. But Mr Grenfell must have seen him, because he swung round to meet him.

  ‘Evening, Parsons. Did you get hung up on something at the last minute?’ He nodded affably. ‘Enjoy yourselves.’

  He went on his way, and Humphrey said: ‘What was he saying to you?’ His voice held a faint sneer. ‘Coaxing you to take another trip?’

  Eugenia said slowly: ‘No, nothing like that—only that there’s an unexpected case coming in in the morning. Where shall we go?’

  ‘I should have liked to have visited Mother, but since you’re always complaining that we’re never alone, we’d better go and have a meal, I suppose.’