At the End of the Day Page 4

  She kissed his small furry head, picked up her purse and with her loose coat over her shoulders, went back to the hospital. Nigel was there and, most annoyingly, so was Professor van der Wagema, talking to him.

  They paused in their talk to wish her a good evening, remark upon the delightful night, and then resume their conversation. Julia, standing between them, with Nigel’s hand on her shoulder, listened with half an ear. Nigel admired the professor and although they rarely had much to do with each other they seemed to have found a great deal to talk about. She was enlightened about this presently: ‘Professor van der Wagema knows my new chief very well,’ Nigel told her. ‘They were up at Cambridge together.’

  ‘How interesting.’ Julia, wanting her dinner, just managed not to look at the big clock on the wall in front of her, while the professor, listening with grave attention to what Nigel was saying, studied her charming person from under heavy lids.

  When the conversation had broken up and Nigel and Julia went on their way, Nigel enthused about the professor while they drove through the busy streets to the small restaurant in Old Bailey which they invariably patronised. It was fairly near to the hospital for one thing and the food was French and fairly cheap and since they had been eating there for a year or more, they were given a corner table where they could talk in peace. Nigel was still extolling the professor’s brilliance as they sat down. ‘Pity you two don’t get on,’ he observed cheerfully, ‘although he has a great opinion of you as a nurse. Told me the ward wouldn’t be the same without you.’

  ‘Well,’ said Julia reasonably, ‘he’ll just have to get used to that, won’t he? Pat will step into my shoes when I leave.’

  She broke off to study the menu; since this was by way of being a celebration she chose rather lavishly and sipped the iced Dubonnet she had asked for. ‘You always have sherry,’ commented Nigel.

  ‘I want something different this evening. After all, we’re celebrating, aren’t we?’

  He beamed at her. ‘Rather. I start at the beginning of November, that gives them time to get another man to replace me. We could get married next summer.’

  ‘Next summer?’ The surprise in her voice made him look up. ‘But that’s months away. Why can’t we have a quiet wedding this autumn—it’s almost October already Nigel. Why do we have to wait?’

  He smiled and took her hand on the table. ‘Look, darling, it’s good sense to wait a bit; I can save up a little and so can you and I can work my way in before you come—I’ll know a few people by then and you won’t be lonely.’

  ‘But I won’t be lonely with you,’ she protested.

  ‘I’ll be working hard all day, most days,’ he pointed out patiently. ‘Mother thought it a very good idea. I can go home for my weekends when I get them so I shan’t get bored.’

  ‘And me?’ asked Julia, forgetting her grammar in the urgency to make him see sense. ‘What about me?’

  ‘Well you can come down to Mother’s—you’ll be due some leave again soon, won’t you?’

  It wasn’t at all what she’d planned; it seemed to her that their future was being taken out of their hands and arranged by his mother, but it was no good rushing her fences, she would have to think of something…

  ‘I dare say that would be a good idea,’ she said quietly and was rewarded by his contented smile.

  They didn’t talk any more about their future that evening; Nigel still had a lot to tell her about his new job, it took up the whole of dinner, and he was still explaining the layout of the hospital in Bristol when he stopped the car outside her little flat.

  ‘Coming up for coffee?’ asked Julia, and added, ‘I’ve got a kitten, he’s called Wellington.’

  ‘You’ll have to find him a home when you come down to Bristol,’ said Nigel. ‘They don’t allow cats or dogs.’

  The resentment which had been smouldering just below the surface all the evening gave her eyes an emerald glint. ‘Oh, indeed? In that case we’ll have to find somewhere else to live. I’ll not give him away.’

  Nigel laughed tolerantly. ‘You’ll change your mind, darling—you can hardly turn your back on a flat with all mod cons for the sake of a cat.’

  ‘No?’ She put her head through the window and he kissed her. ‘Thanks for a lovely evening, Nigel. See you around. I’m going home this weekend.’

  He hadn’t said he would come in for coffee and just at that moment she didn’t particularly want him to. She was being silly about Wellington, but he could at least have sympathised and tried to think of a way out. The kitten came to meet her as she opened her door and she picked him up and wandered restlessly round her room while he arranged himself round her neck, purring into her ear. ‘Don’t worry,’ she told him, ‘I’ll not part with you.’

  In bed later, common sense came to her rescue; she had been edgy all the evening, they had got off to a bad start, from her point of view at least, with the professor making an unwelcome third at their meeting, and Nigel’s mother and her tiresome plans… No, it went back further than that; she had been put out because Nigel had gone off to Bristol on his own when she could so easily have gone with him if only he’d asked her in time. It’ll be all right tomorrow, she promised herself and slept on the thought.

  She didn’t see Nigel at all during the next day; he would be operating for most of the day and she was kept busy with a couple of admissions and lengthy sessions with Mrs Collins’ niece, who, although kind hearted and sensible, quite obviously didn’t want the bother of arranging her aunt’s future.

  ‘It won’t be for some time yet,’ Julia pointed out reasonably, ‘Mrs Collins isn’t fit to move and won’t be for several weeks. We don’t expect you to make a home for her, the social worker attached to the hospital is willing to find out about some sort of accommodation for her, not too far from you, if possible. What we really want to get straight is if you could deal with her possessions and pay up her landlady and so on? Social Security will help you financially…’

  It was a relief to have things settled at last; she told Dick Reed when he came on the ward later and went with him to see the two new patients. Chest cases both of them. He spent some time examining them, wrote up their notes, expressed the opinion that they would do well enough until the professor’s round on Thursday, and then went away again.

  Julia, who loved her work, decided that evening that she needed a holiday, she was getting stale and vaguely discontented; not like her at all. There had been tentative plans for her to go to Portugal with Fiona and Mary, sometime in October, but she didn’t think that was what she wanted. Home would be the best place—a week or ten days pottering round with her mother, riding in the mornings, going to the rather staid dinner parties their elderly friends gave from time to time and spending days with friends of her own age who she so seldom saw nowadays. She thought about it all the next day, discussed it with Fiona and Mary and quite made up her mind. It only remained for her to tell Nigel and she could do that when they next spent an evening together; if he could manage it, he could spend a weekend…

  Her plans buoyed her up all the next day and even the wet early morning dreariness of Thursday morning couldn’t depress her. She prepared for the professor’s round with more than usual briskness and greeted him cheerfully. His response, as usual, was coolly polite but she hardly noticed that. The round went well even if it was rather protracted and presently he and Dick Reed drank their coffee while they discussed their patient’s conditions, adding instructions to those Julia already had, handing her endless signed forms for her to fill in. They had just finished when Dick Reed was called away to an admission in Casualty. The professor made no move from the radiator where he was sitting. ‘Let me know if you want me, Dick,’ he advised and when the door had closed behind his Registrar: ‘You look tired, Julia, you need a holiday.’

  She looked up from the notes she was tidying on the desk. ‘Well, I’m going to have one,’ she told him with satisfaction. ‘I’m going home for ten days in a couple of w
eeks’ time.’

  ‘And where is home?’ The question was so idly put that she answered without thought. ‘Near Salisbury—along the Chalke Valley—it’s a small village. Stratford Bissett…’

  ‘A delightful name. Your father lives there?’

  ‘Yes, he’s a retired schoolmaster, at least not quite retired, he takes boys in their holidays for cramming and visits two prep schools each week.’ She suddenly realised that she was giving away a whole lot of information to someone who couldn’t be in the least interested, and came to an abrupt halt.

  Her companion didn’t seem to notice, he went on, almost lazily. ‘You have brothers and sisters?’

  She reflected that they had known each other for more than three—almost four—years and never once had he evinced any interest in her as a person. She said ‘Yes,’ and that was all.

  He couldn’t have been all that interested; he got up after a few moments, reminded her that he would be taking a teaching round the next afternoon and went away.

  He was at his most remote when he arrived on the ward the following day accompanied by half a dozen students. And two can play at that game, she decided, though the students, all anxious to be at their best and nervous, must regard her as a martinet of the most horrifying kind. All the same, she managed to help them out when the professor wasn’t looking, with nods and winks to put them on the right track. At the end of the round the professor was kind enough to observe that they had done quite well, even allowing for Sister Mitchell’s well meant hints.

  She had reddened delightfully at that, but had said nothing.

  She had bought a basket for Wellington and in order to save time had packed an overnight bag on Friday morning before she went on duty, with any luck she would be able to get an evening train to Salisbury. If she ‘phoned home just before she left her father would meet her there. She went through the day happily enough, now that she knew she would be free in a few hours. She had seen Nigel at dinner time, just for a few minutes and suggested that he might get a weekend while she was on holiday and drive himself down to her home and he had seemed delighted with the idea. They had made a date for Monday evening when they would both be off duty, and she had returned to the afternoon’s work in a glow of contentment.

  It had taken no time at all to hurry round to the flat once she was off duty, change into a jersey two-piece, cram Wellington into his basket and with her overnight bag in her other hand, take a taxi to Waterloo. It was still early evening and quite warm and the train was only half full. She sat with Wellington’s basket beside her, and allowed her thoughts to dwell on the future. It seemed rosy enough although there were one or two small pinpricks, silly ones really—her future mother-in-law loomed a little too large but she was the first to admit that probably she was making a mountain out of a molehill. She still could not see why she and Nigel shouldn’t get married before Christmas, perhaps if he spent a couple of days with her while she was on holiday she would be able to persuade him. Then there was the vexed question of her birthday. It had undoubtedly slipped Nigel’s mind, he had had a lot to think about just then, all the same, she had been hurt, still was… One day soon, she told herself bracingly, she would tell him about it and they would laugh together.

  The train drew into Salisbury and she collected her bag and with Wellington’s basket in her hand, got out of the carriage. She saw her father at once, tall and thin and a little stooping and her heart gave a happy leap; for some reason she was glad to be well away from St Anne’s and her own problems, which already seemed remote and unimportant. She gave a small yelp of delight and hurried towards him.

  CHAPTER THREE

  MR MITCHELL embraced his daughter warmly, took her bag and led her outside to where the car, an elderly Rover stood. ‘Your mother’s at home,’ he told her, ‘dishing up the fatted calf. It seems a long time since you were home, my dear.’

  ‘Four weeks, Father—Nigel had a weekend when I did and we went to his home, if you remember. I’m going to have ten days’ holiday in a couple of weeks, and he’ll come home for his weekend if you and Mother don’t mind.’

  They had got into the car and her father was fiddling with his seat belt. ‘You know we love to have you. Madge ‘phoned to say she’d come over for the day and bring Harry with her.’

  ‘Oh, good, I haven’t seen him for ages. Has he any teeth yet?’

  They exchanged small items of news as they drove out of the city and took the road to Stratford Bissett and the road along the Chalke Valley. It was almost dark by now and the car’s headlights shone on the hedges on either side of the road, presently they revealed a handful of cottages as they passed through a small village. Half a mile along the road Mr Mitchell turned the car in through an open gateway and stopped before his front door. The house was in darkness now, but Julia knew every inch of it; stone and flint with a low tiled roof and lattice windows and tall twisted chimneys and a solid door with a wide porch with seats on either side worn smooth by generations of use. She got out of the car and ran inside, down the flagstoned hall to the kitchen. Her mother was at the table, putting the finishing touches to supper and she looked up and smiled as Julia went in.

  ‘Darling, how lovely to see you. Is that the kitten your father was telling me about? He’ll be hungry, poor little scrap. We’ll shut the doors and he can have his supper with Gyp and Muffin and Maud. Take your jacket off, dear, supper’s just ready.’

  Julia gave her mother a hug, tossed her jacket into a chair, shut the door and let Wellington out of his basket. Gyp, her father’s dog, had lumbered over to greet Julia, now she put her great head down and blew gently over the kitten who backed away and then crept up close to the dog.

  Julia watched them. ‘Oh, good, Gyp will look after him. Isn’t it splendid that Nigel’s got his job at Bristol? Of course, I knew he would, all the same, it’s pretty super.’

  Her mother agreed. ‘You’ll be able to get married now…’

  ‘Well, he wants to wait until next summer—so that he can get settled in.’

  Julia was picking bits off the quiche lorraine her mother had just put on the table and she didn’t look up.

  ‘Surely…’ began her mother and changed it to: ‘That’ll give you nice time to find somewhere to live.’

  ‘Oh, there is a flat that goes with the job—furnished too.’

  Julia could almost hear her mother thinking and changed the conversation smartly. ‘I’ve got ten days’ holiday, Mother. Will it be all right if I come home? In about two weeks’ time?’ She turned to smile at her father as he came into the room. ‘Nigel could get a weekend off, I expect.’

  ‘That’ll be lovely, darling. Do you want to go up to your room, or shall I dish up?’

  ‘Give me five minutes. Don’t let Wellington escape, will you?’

  She slept soundly that night, but she always did in the country. Wellington curled up beside her; none the worse for meeting Muffin and Maud, who were both elderly anyway and tolerant of kittens. Besides, Gyp had taken him under her wing and he had eaten a splendid supper with the three of them.

  The fine weather held, Julia got up early dressed in old slacks and a disreputable sweater and crossed the garden, and the small paddock beyond, to the stables where the old pony Star, and Jane the donkey lived. It was only just light but they were pleased to see her, she saddled Star and then rode him out of the gate and into the lane beyond to take the bridle path across the fields towards the village. There was no one about although she could hear a tractor in the distance and the church in the village striking the hour. She was utterly at peace, in a bubble of contentment, her thoughts so quiet as to be almost nonexistent. She gave Star a rest at the top of the slope behind the house and sat looking at the broad sweep of country before her, wide green fields, ploughed ones too and winding in and out between them the little river Nadder. She found herself shocked and surprised to discover that she was wishing that she could show it all to Professor van der Wagema. She had no idea why she shou
ld have thought of him and she forgot him almost as soon as they had turned for home. Star, with the prospect of a rub down and breakfast, trotted along sturdily, anxious to be back in the paddock with his companion and Julia let Jane out before she began on him. It was bright sunlight and pleasantly warm by the time she had finished with him and as she went back to the house she could smell bacon cooking. She wrinkled her lovely nose and sighed: there was a lot to be said for living in the country, on the other hand she loved her job…

  The two days passed all too quickly, it seemed to her that in no time at all she was climbing the stairs to her flat with Wellington muttering in his basket; he was going to hate being cooped up in one room as much as she was. Perhaps Nigel was right in saying that he shouldn’t go to Bristol with them; he could always go to her home, he had settled down quickly enough there. On the other hand she wanted to keep him.

  The room was stuffy and she opened a window and made tea before getting supper for the two of them and presently she went to bed.

  There hadn’t been any admissions while she had been away and the two chest cases were a little better. Three patients would be going home before lunch and Dick Reed had already ‘phoned to say that he wanted the beds by the afternoon. Julia made sure that they were ready and after her usual round went to take a look at Mrs Collins. Decidedly better, wide awake and even trying to talk. Julia went off to her office, well pleased and rang Dick Reed to find out what exactly was coming into the empty beds.