Part 8 (1/2)

engaged him in a trivial conversation all the way back to Theobald's,

where she thanked him with the nice manners of a small girl who had been well drilled in the social niceties.

Mr van Diederijk listened to her, his head a little on one side.

When she had finished, all he said was: ”Not a successful evening, but

there will be others.

' This remark sent her crossly to her bed; there would be no more evenings, she decided, and then remembered that she had said that she would go to the theatre with him.

Oh well, she conceded, just that once more, and then never again.

In view of this resolution it was upsetting to receive a brief note from him on the following day, telling her that he had been called back to Holland, and must regretfully postpone their date.

She stuck it back in its envelope and left it on the desk in her office, and presently when she went back there with Sir Walter and Nick, she saw him looking at it.

She picked it up and put it in her pocket without a word and had the satisfaction of hearing Nick ask Sir Walter if Mr van Diederijk would be operating on the case they had been looking at.

”Back in Holland,” mumbled Sir Walter through a mouthful of biscuit, 'had an emergency call from his brother.

He'll be back, though.

I want to get his opinion on that leg we've been looking at.

' He launched into technicalities and Alethea poured his second cup of coffee and listened with one ear, while she speculated as to whether Mr van Diederijk would ask her out again.

It was difficult to keep her mind on this, because Nick was sitting close to her and she was only too well aware of him.

He was still behaving as though she was someone he had only just met and didn't like, anyway, and she was hard put to it to maintain a serene front.

She still felt terrible about him, but pride forbade her to show her feelings and there was a certain sad satisfaction in knowing that she was being successful in this.

She saw the two men out of the ward presently and went back to her ward round which they had interrupted.

Sat.u.r.day came and went, and it was lucky that she was so very busy, she told herself, for now that she had no date, she was under no obligation to go off duty punctually on Sat.u.r.day evening-indeed, she stayed on for an hour or more, much to Sue's surprise and faint annoyance; surely Sister Thomas knew her well enough by now to know that she could safely leave the patients to her without fussing round in a totally untypical manner?

It came to her presently that it might be on account of Nick Penrose.

Alethea had said nothing and her manner towards him had given nothing away, all the same.

Sue nodded her head wisely and when Alethea at last went off duty, wished her good night with genuine sympathy.

Sunday and Monday were surprisingly quiet and Alethea had given herself her days off on Tuesday and Wednesday that week.

Thursday was to be a heavy operating day, and she liked to be on duty for theatre days, anyway.

She went home on Monday evening, driving through the lovely April evening and seeing nothing of it, her mind busy.

She would waste no more time in being sorry for herself, but she knew that she would have to get away from Nick before she could take up the threads other life once more.

She would have liked to have given in her notice there and then, but that wasn't possible; she would have to work her month out, like everyone else, and find herself another job.

It might look as though she were running away from an unpleasant situation, and in a way, she was and probably Nick would get some satisfaction from it, but her friends would understand and as far as she could see, it was the best way, indeed, the only way.

She told her grandmother of her vague plans that evening and that lady, without asking any awkward questions, heartily agreed with her before embarking on a series of helpful suggestions as to where she should go.

”Give London a rest,” she urged.

”Why not Edinburgh?

I know it's a long way and you won't get home nearly as often, but you'll be breaking new ground.

' Mrs Thomas settled back in her chair.

”Get out that port the vicar gave me at Christmas, child, we'll have a gla.s.s while we're thinking.

' But there was nothing much to discuss, when all was said and done.

Alethea loved her grandmother dearly, but she had no intention of burdening her with her troubles; all the same, it was pleasant to sit there and make plans for the future with someone who really was interested.

It was probably the port which made her sleep soundly for the first time in nights.

She awoke early to a splendid morning with a brisk wind and suns.h.i.+ne, which, while not over-warm, gave promise of a lovely day.

She lay in bed for a little while and then remembered how Mrs Bustle had been grumbling mildly about the spring cleaning, something which she insisted upon doing each year.

Alethea got out of bed, got into slacks and a thin sweater and crept downstairs.

The sitting room curtains, Mrs Bustle had observed gloomily, simply had to come down and have a good blow.

Alethea made tea, drank it at the open kitchen door, gave Podge the cat his morning milk and set about getting the curtains out into the garden.

They were old and faded, but their damask was still good.

They were also very heavy; she hauled them down the garden path to the very end where the clothes line was, and hung them upon it, and then, quite carried away by her success, went into the dining room and did the same for the green serge hanging at the big sash window there.

She would make more tea, she decided, and take a cup upstairs to both ladies before getting the breakfast; Mrs Bustle could do with an extra hour in bed.