A Betty Neels Christmas: A Christmas ProposalWinter Wedding Page 14

  The weather was as gloomy as her mood as she got out her bike and started off home, despite the fact that Sister had allowed her to go home early. As she wheeled her bike through the gate she was surprised to see that there was no light on anywhere. She couldn’t remember Louisa telling her that she would be out as late as this with the twins, unless she had taken them out to tea with one of her youthful friends. Emily unlocked the back door and went into the kitchen to find the house quiet. There was no note and no one answered when she called. More puzzled than worried, she took off her outdoor things and looked into the sitting room, but there was no one there either—perhaps Louisa had left a message in her room. She went upstairs to see. Louisa’s room was untidy; it always was. Her own, in contrast, looked bare. Frowning now, Emily went back on to the landing. She must have missed a note downstairs somewhere. The door of the twins’ little room was shut and almost without thinking, she opened it and looked inside. The babies were in their cots, apparently asleep.

  Only they weren’t asleep. They were unconscious—out cold—their small hands and feet icy, their pupils not reacting, their breaths so shallow she could barely see that they were breathing. An icy hand clutched at Emily’s heart and the wish to give way to panic was so great that she was forced to close her eyes for a moment—long enough for her calm good sense to take over. She looked round the room rapidly; there might be some clue. And there was; on the mantelpiece there was a small bottle of Seconal.

  During the next seconds her mind registered two facts: the tablets were out of reach of the twins, and the bottle was tightly stoppered; and that Louisa had grumbled on the previous evening because she had wanted to go to a late afternoon fashion show at the Town Hall and Emily had told her that it couldn’t be done because she herself wouldn’t be home until half past five at the earliest.

  Even while her mind was busy, so were her capable hands; taking pulses, feeling the small bodies for the clamminess and the chill. At least their breathing, although far too shallow and light, was unhampered, at least for the moment, and they hadn’t been sick. She thanked heaven for that and at the same time tried to think what was best to be done. She gave them one more anxious look and started down the stairs at a run. She was almost at their foot when the front door bell rang.

  She was across the little hall in a flash to open it and let out a great gusty sigh of relief when she saw who it was—the Professor, his powerful frame looming large in the poky porch.

  Emily put out an urgent hand and clutched his sleeve. ‘Thank heaven it’s you!’ she exclaimed in a small scream. ‘The twins…’

  He bent his head and came through the door, closing it behind him so that in the narrow passage they were jammed close together. ‘They’re ill?’

  ‘Yes,’ she moved towards the stairs, ‘oh, you must hurry—they’re up here…’

  He was right behind her as she galloped up the stairs and at the bedroom door he lifted her aside with one hand and went past her to the cots.

  It seemed an age before he lifted his head from examining the babies, although it wasn’t more than a minute. ‘Coma,’ he said. ‘How on earth…there’s no gas in the room?’

  ‘No…I think they must have had…’

  She didn’t finish because he had already seen the little bottle for himself.

  ‘Seconal.’ He flashed her a look. ‘Do you take sleeping tablets?’

  ‘No—I…’

  ‘They must go to hospital at once—my car’s outside.’ He began to wrap William in a blanket and Emily went to do the same for Claire. The Professor glanced up briefly and she was horrified at the icy look in his eyes; his voice was ice too. ‘You’ve been on duty all day?’ And when she nodded: ‘Is this how you keep them quiet? Dope them? Only this time your hand slipped…’

  He pushed past her and started downstairs and Emily stood, shocked into stillness by his words. Her face was chalk white and she was shivering with fright and cold, but she followed him, climbed into the car without a word, received William’s still little body on to her lap where Claire already lay, and sat still speechless while he raced through the dull streets to the Accident Bay, where he flung open the door, urged her to be quick and went inside with William. There was help immediately, of course. The twins were laid gently down and their small stomachs washed out while their noses and mouths were cleared to prevent their lungs collapsing. Half way through the Professor turned round and saw Emily, standing like a frozen statue, just behind him.

  ‘Go away,’ he told her harshly.

  She gave him a look of loathing. ‘No. I’m staying.’

  And stay she did, keeping as close as she dared while the Professor, the Casualty Officer, an anaesthetist, her friend, Staff Nurse O’Brien and a student nurse worked their hardest. William recovered first and only the Professor’s large arm prevented her leaping to gather him in her arms. His ‘Stay where you are, Nurse Seymour,’ was uttered in a tone of voice which would countenance no disobedience, and common sense told her that he was quite right. William wasn’t going to be himself for a little while yet; he was wrapped up carefully and borne off to the Children’s ward while they bent over Claire. She responded presently, too, but only after the Professor had ordered an injection of Megimide. Emily watched her carried away to join her brother, glanced at the Professor, giving instructions to the Casualty Officer, and at Bernadette O’Brien and her nurse, clearing up the mess, and edged to the door. No one was going to stop her going to Children’s and staying until the twins were perfectly recovered.

  She was actually at the door when the Professor’s voice halted her. ‘I should like to speak to you,’ he warned her, and when she took a tentative step backwards: ‘Now.’

  In a voice which no one else there could hear, he said: ‘Now I should like to know more about this most regrettable happening. How many tablets did you give? And have you done it before?’ She hesitated and he added: ‘We will go into the entrance; we shan’t be disturbed.’

  So she went into the bare, short corridor which opened directly on to the ambulance bay. It was dark and cold and she shivered, trying to hide it.

  ‘Now…’ prompted the Professor.

  She hardly heard him. ‘Will they be all right?’

  His eyes were still cold, but his voice was kind enough. ‘Oh, yes—I imagine that they had only been in coma for an hour or so and they’re healthy little creatures. They’ll have to stay a few days to make sure that they haven’t got pneumonia.’

  She nodded, too miserable to speak, but he reiterated: ‘Now, if you please, Nurse, let us have the facts.’

  ‘Well—’ began Emily, and stopped. He would probably not believe her if she told him the truth; in fact, he might possibly think that she was blaming Louisa because she wasn’t there to defend herself. Try as she could, she couldn’t think of anything plausible to say.

  But she didn’t need to say anything; a taxi stopped in the bay and Louisa tumbled out and rushed into the corridor. She saw Emily at once, but not the Professor, who had gone to lean up against a wall.

  ‘Emily—oh, Emily—Mrs Turner saw you and told me. Oh, Emily, I never meant to give them too much—I just thought that if they had some in their feed they’d go to sleep and I could go to the fashion show. I did so want to go and I didn’t think it would matter, only the show lasted longer than I thought it would and you got home early, didn’t you?’ She started to cry. ‘I’m so upset, I feel quite ill.’

  ‘The twins feel quite ill too,’ said the Professor quietly.

  Louisa turned in a flash. ‘Renier—I didn’t know you were here, too.’ She went close to him and put a hand on his arm. ‘I think I’m going to faint—I can’t stand being upset. Emily will tell you, I’m very sensitive…’ She smiled at him through her tears. ‘Please will you take me home?’

  His thick eyebrows lifted. ‘I’ve no intention of leaving the hospital until William and Claire are completely recovered.’ He took her arm and walked her down to the bay where t
he taxi was still waiting, put her inside, said something to the driver, and watched it drive away. Long after it had disappeared he stood there, apparently absorbed in the dreary view of the hospital yard before him, so that Emily started to walk away. Perhaps he was so sick of them both that he wanted nothing more to do with either of them. He was beside her before she had taken a couple of steps. His first words startled her.

  ‘I find it difficult to believe that you and Louisa are sisters.’

  She felt lightheaded with relief because the twins were going to be all right. She could think of nothing else. ‘Lot’s of people say that—we aren’t a bit alike; she’s so pretty.’ Her voice held no envy, rather a pride in having a lovely sister.

  ‘I wasn’t speaking of looks. I judged you harshly, Emily, and I’m sorry. I hope you will forgive me—I should have known better. My only excuse is that the sight of those two babies angered me so much.’

  They had stopped by the door leading to the Accident Room and even if Emily had wanted to go through it, she wouldn’t have been able to; the Professor was blocking her way. She looked up at him, at his rather arrogant good looks and his blue eyes, now strangely friendly. ‘That’s all right,’ she said a little gruffly. ‘I was angry too, I know how you felt.’

  He held out a large, beautifully kept hand and she shook it solemnly, but when she went to withdraw it, he held it fast. ‘The twins will be all right. We’ll go and have something to eat and then you shall see them before you go home.’

  Emily was ravenously hungry and she had the sure feeling that if he said the twins were going to be OK then they would be. ‘I’m not dressed for going out,’ she pointed out.

  ‘Nor am I,’ he declared blandly, a palpable falsehood, if ever there was one. ‘There’s a nice little pub at Cushford’—Cushford was a village a mile or so away down a side road. He noticed for the first time that she was wearing a sweater and skirt; there had been no time to put on her coat. ‘Borrow a coat from someone—a hospital cloak will do…’

  Emily didn’t like to point out that the wearing of hospital cloaks more than five hundred yards from the hospital was forbidden and it didn’t seem to matter, anyway. She begged Bernadette O’Brien’s cloak from her and waited while he had a final word with Mr Spencer, who had just arrived.

  It was bitterly cold by now and she was grateful for the cloak as they got into the car. The Professor plunged his hand into a compartment under the dashboard and handed her a pair of gloves. ‘Put those on.’ His glance took in her still white face and shaking mouth. ‘You’ll feel much better when you’ve had a meal.’

  She thanked him and then suddenly remembered Louisa. ‘Oh, I really should go home,’ she declared. ‘I mean, poor Louisa’s all alone and she’s so upset.’

  ‘Not, I think, as upset as you are, Emily—she’s made of different stuff, I fancy.’ He glanced at his watch. ‘We shan’t be long, you know, by the time she’s made herself a cup of tea and got herself sorted out, you’ll be home.’

  If she had been quite herself, she wouldn’t have believed him for one minute, but she wasn’t quite herself.

  The pub was small and cosy with a pleasant fug of tobacco smoke and beer. The Professor led her through a little door at the back where, surprisingly, there was a minute restaurant, most of which was already occupied. He sat her down in a vacant chair and went away again to return with the pub owner, a thin, sad-looking man who when he smiled didn’t look sad at all. He offered Emily the menu, received the Professor’s order for drinks and went away again, whistling under his breath.

  The menu was quite varied and full of such wholesome food as steak and kidney pudding and two veg., roast pork and apple sauce, and T-bone steak.

  ‘Steak and kidney for you?’ suggested the Professor, and Emily, who seldom had the time to make one herself, agreed happily.

  ‘And for pudding?’ urged her companion. ‘The treacle tart sounds good.’

  Treacle tart was loaded with calories; it was all very well for the Professor, he had a vast person to keep nourished, whereas she was already slightly plump. When she hesitated he said: ‘You’ve used up every scrap of energy in the last two hours or so; you’ll need to replace it, you know.’

  She did that with pleasure, eating every scrap of food on her plate, as well as drinking the sherry she was invited to drink first, and the excellent claret which accompanied the steak and kidney pudding.

  If she had stopped to think about it, she would have been surprised to find that she felt quite at her ease with the Professor, who chatted about this and that while stowing away a huge meal. It was only as they were drinking the excellent coffee that Emily said suddenly:

  ‘Oh, lord—haven’t we been here a long time? Supposing the twins…’

  ‘Don’t panic. I left this phone number with Spencer; he would have telephoned if he needed me.’ His smile was kind. ‘We’ll go when you want to.’

  The twins were doing fine, both sleeping, a normal colour once more, their breaths even and deep.

  ‘No pneumonia there,’ the Professor assured Emily, ‘but we’ll keep them in for a few days. When do you have your next days off?’

  ‘At the end of the week—Friday and Saturday.’

  ‘You shall take them home on Friday morning. And now if you’re ready, I’ll drop you off on my way home.’

  But when they reached the little house he got out too and opened the door for her and, uninvited, followed her inside. Louisa was in the kitchen. She was wearing a new dressing gown Emily hadn’t seen before, and her hair was hanging artlessly round her shoulders. Her pretty face was the picture of woe and as they went in the tears began to spill out of her blue eyes. ‘Emily,’ she rushed at her sister and flung her arms round her, ‘I’m so dreadfully sorry—do forgive me! You know I’d never hurt the twins and I didn’t know the Seconal would hurt them—I mean, I only went to sleep when I was given them because I was worried when we came here.’

  Emily kissed a cheek and unwound Louisa’s arms gently. ‘It’s all right, love, the twins are fine, they’ll be home in a few days.’

  Louisa gave a choking sob and peeped at the Professor from under her long, mascaraed lashes. He was watching her with such interest that she left Emily and went to him, putting a hand on his arm. ‘Renier, you don’t hate me, do you? I know I’ve been a silly girl, but I’m not clever like Emily.’ She wiped a tear away with a finger and smiled enchantingly at him. ‘I hope you still want to take me out when I come to London.’

  ‘What man could resist such an invitation?’ The Professor’s voice was all silk and Emily glanced at him uncertainly. Then her face cleared, for he was smiling at Louisa and patting the hand on his sleeve. Perhaps he was getting serious about Louisa; it seemed absurd, but such things did happen, Emily told herself, and felt suddenly forlorn.

  He went shortly after that, bidding her a casual good night and smiling again when he looked at Louisa. He didn’t say when he was going to see her again, though, and Emily was treated to a nasty attack of tantrums when he’d gone.

  She saw the twins every day, cutting short her meal times, visiting them on her way on and off duty, in the morning before she went on the ward, in the evening before she went home. They flourished, making the rapid recovery small children and babies so often do, and never once did she see the Professor. He was there in the hospital because one of her friends had taken a case to theatre and he had been operating, and she had seen his car parked in the forecourt. It was extraordinary that, disliking him as she did, she should miss him. Perhaps because the dislike was overshadowed by her gratitude. She was surprised that Louisa never spoke of him; she was very quiet, and doing far more housework than she usually did, so that Emily made no objection when she asked if she might go to the cinema with Tracey. Emily, watching her go, thought that she had dressed rather too well for such an ordinary outing, but Louisa was mad about clothes; perhaps she was trying out some new ideas

  Louisa had told her not to stay up for
her. ‘I expect Tracey will ask me back for a cup of coffee afterwards,’ she pointed out, ‘and it’s only just across the road.’ So Emily went to bed with a book and thought about the twins and Mary and George and started making her plans once more. They were rather foolish ones, perhaps, but pleasant. It was surprising that in a daydream one was always so pretty, so attractive to men. She dropped off presently and didn’t hear Louisa coming in much later. The Professor dropped her off at the door, turned the car silently and sped back to London.

  He was at the hospital the next day, though, and Emily, trotting briskly to and fro about her many jobs, was brought to a halt by his cheerful ‘Good morning, Staff Nurse.’ And since he was standing in front of her, she had perforce to stay where she was.

  She gave him a polite good morning in return and made to go on, but edging round his vast frame was undignified, so she said: ‘The twins are coming home tomorrow morning.’

  The Professor’s eyes twinkled. ‘Yes, I did know.’

  She blushed. ‘Oh, of course, you said they could, didn’t you?’

  ‘Louisa gave you my message?’

  She gazed at him with astonished eyes. ‘Message? No—how could she?’

  ‘Easily enough.’ He was staring at her hard. ‘I took her out last night.’ He frowned. ‘She told me that you knew I was taking her to see that new film in the West End.’ And then: ‘No, don’t trouble to think up an answer, I can see for myself that she didn’t.’ He frowned down at her. ‘There was no intention of secrecy, Emily—she begged so prettily to be taken I hadn’t the heart to refuse.’ The frown disappeared and he smiled. ‘I didn’t want to refuse, anyway.’

  Emily conjured up an answering smile. ‘You make me sound like an elderly aunt! Why should I object to Louisa going out?’ Suddenly her calm deserted her. ‘And she can make what friends she likes,’ she said peevishly, ‘I’m not in the least interested—not in any of them.’ She gave a small snort. ‘And now, if you don’t mind, Professor, I have some treatment to do.’