Caroline's Waterloo

‘Caroline Tripp.’ She watched his stern mouth twitch at the corners; possibly her name sounded as strange to him as his did to her. ‘I feel better, thank you.’ She added, ‘It was kind of you to sit with me last night.’

He had produced an ophthalmoscope from somewhere and was fitting it together. ‘I am a doctor, Miss Tripp—a doctor’s duty is to his patient.’

Unanswerable, especially with her head in such a muddled state. He examined her eyes with care and silently and then spoke to someone she couldn’t see. ‘I should like to examine the leg, please.’

It was Stacey who turned back the coverlet and removed the cradle before unwinding the bandage which covered Caro’s leg from knee to ankle.

‘Did you stitch it?’ asked Caro, craning her neck to see.

A firm hand restrained her. ‘You would be foolish to move your head too much,’ she was told. ‘Yes, I have cleaned and stitched the wound in your leg. It is a deep, jagged cut and you will have to rest it for some days.’

‘Oh, I can’t do that,’ said Caro, still not quite in control of her woolly wits, ‘I’m on duty in four days’ time.’

‘An impossibility—you will remain here until I consider you fit to return.’

‘There must be a hospital…’ Her head was beginning to throb.

‘As a nurse you should be aware of the importance of resting both your brain and your leg. Kindly don’t argue.’

She was feeling very peculiar again, rather as though she were lying in a mist, listening to people’s voices but quite unable to focus them with her tired eyes. ‘You can’t possibly be married,’ she mumbled, ‘and you sound as though you hate me—you must be a mi—mi…’

‘Misogynist.’

She had her eyes shut again so that she wouldn’t cry. He was being very gentle, but her leg hurt dreadfully; she was going to tell him so, but she dropped off again.

Next time she woke up it was Clare by the bed and she grinned weakly and said: ‘I feel better.’

‘Good. Would you like a cup of tea?—it’s real strong tea, like we make at Oliver’s.’

It tasted lovely; drinking it, Caroline began to feel that everything was normal again. ‘There’s some very thin bread and butter,’ suggested Clare. Caro devoured that too; she had barely swallowed the last morsel before she was asleep again.

It was late afternoon when she woke again. The lamp was already lighted and the Professor was sitting beside it, writing. ‘Don’t you have any patients?’ asked Caroline.

He glanced up from his writing. ‘Yes. Would you like a drink?’

She had seen the tray with a glass and jug on it, on the table by her bed. ‘Yes, please—I can help myself; I’m feeling fine.’

He took no notice at all but got up, put an arm behind her shoulders, lifted her very gently and held the glass for her. When she had finished he laid her down again and said: ‘You may have your friends in for ten minutes,’ and stalked quietly out of the room.

They crept in very silently and stood in a row at the foot of the bed, looking at her. ‘You’re better,’ said Miriam, ‘the Professor says so.’ And then: ‘We’re going back tomorrow morning.’

Caro tried to sit up and was instantly thrust gently back on to her pillow. ‘You can’t—you can’t leave me here! He doesn’t like me—why can’t I go to hospital if I’ve got to stay? How are you going?’

‘Noakes—that’s the sort of butler who was at the gate when we fell over—he’s to drive us to the Hoek. The bikes are to be sent back later.’

‘He’s quite nice,’ said Clare, ‘the Professor, I mean—he’s a bit terse but he’s been a perfect host. I don’t think he likes us much but then of course, he’s quite old, quite forty, I should think; he’s always reading or writing and he’s away a lot—Noakes says he’s a very important man in his profession.’ She giggled, ‘You can hardly hear that he’s Dutch, his English is so good, and isn’t it funny that Noakes comes from Paddington? but he’s been here for years and years—he’s married to the cook. There’s a housekeeper too, very tall and looks severe but she’s not.’

‘And three maids besides a gardener,’ chimed in Miriam. ‘He must be awfully rich.’

‘You’ll be OK,’ Stacey assured her, ‘you’ll be back in no time. Do you want us to do anything for you?’

Caro’s head was aching again. ‘Would you ask Mrs Hodge to go on feeding Waterloo until I get back? There’s some money in my purse—will you take some so that she can get his food?’

‘OK—we’ll go round to your place and make sure he’s all right. Do you have to pay Mrs Hodge any rent?’

‘No, I pay in advance each month. Is there enough money for me to get back by boat?’

Stacey counted. ‘Yes—it’s only a single fare and I expect Noakes will take you to the boat.’ She came a bit nearer. ‘Well, ’bye for now, Caro. We hate leaving you, but there’s nothing we can do about it.’

Caro managed a smile. ‘I’ll be fine—I’ll let you know when I’m coming.’

They all shook hands with her rather solemnly. ‘We’re going quite early and the Professor said we weren’t to disturb you in the morning.’

Caroline lay quietly after they had gone, too tired to feel much. Indeed, when the Professor came in later and gave her a sedative she made no demur but drank it down meekly and closed her eyes at once. It must have been quite strong because she was asleep at once, although he stayed for some time, sitting in his chair watching her, for once neither reading nor writing.

She didn’t wake until quite late in the morning, to find Noakes’ wife—Marta—standing by the bed with a small tray. There was tea again and paper-thin bread and butter and scrambled egg which she fed Caro with just as though she were a baby. She spoke a little English too, and Caro made out that her friends had gone.

When Marta had gone away, she lay and thought about it; she felt much more clear-headed now, almost herself, but not quite, otherwise she would never have conceived the idea of getting up, getting dressed, and leaving the house. She couldn’t stay where she wasn’t welcome—it was like her uncle all over again. Perhaps, she thought miserably, there was something about her that made her unacceptable as a guest. She was on the plain side, that she already knew, and perhaps because of that she was self-effacing and inclined to be shy. She had quickly learned not to draw attention to herself, but on the other hand she had plenty of spirit and a natural friendliness which had made her a great number of friends. But the Professor, she felt, was not one of their number.

The more she thought of her scheme, the more she liked it; the fact that she had a considerable fever made it seem both feasible and sensible, although it was neither. She began, very cautiously, to sit up. Her head ached worse than ever, but she ignored that and concentrated on moving her injured leg. It hurt a good deal more than she had expected, but she persevered until she was sitting untidily on the edge of the bed, her sound foot on the ground, its stricken fellow on its edge. It had hurt before; now, when she started to dangle it over the side of the bed, the pain brought great waves of nausea sweeping over her.

‘Oh, God!’ said Caro despairingly, and meant it.

‘Perhaps I will do?’ The Professor had come softly into the room, taking great strides to reach her.

‘I’m going to be sick,’ moaned Caro, and was, making a mess of his beautifully polished shoes. If she hadn’t felt so ill she would have died of shame, as it was she burst into tears, sobbing and sniffing and gulping.

The Professor said nothing at all but picked her up and laid her back in bed again, pulling the covers over her and arranging the cradle just so over her injured leg before getting a sponge and towel from the adjoining bathroom and wiping her face for her. She looked at him round the sponge and mumbled: ‘Your shoes—your lovely shoes, I’m so s-sorry.’ She gave a great gulp. ‘I should have gone with the others.’

‘Why were you getting out of bed?’ He didn’t sound angry, only interested.

‘Well, I thought I could manage to dress and I’ve enough money, I think—I was going back to England.’

He went to the fireplace opposite the bed and pressed the brass wall bell beside it. When Noakes answered it he requested a clean pair of shoes and a tray of tea for two and waited patiently until these had been brought and Noakes, accompanied by a maid, had swiftly cleared up the mess. Only then did he say: ‘And now suppose we have a little talk over our tea?’

He pulled a chair nearer the bed, handed her a cup of tea and poured one for himself. ‘Let us understand each other, young lady.’

Caroline studied him over the rim of her cup. He talked like a professor, but he didn’t look like one; he was enormous and she had always thought of professors as small bent gentlemen with bald heads and untidy moustaches, but Professor Thoe van Erckelens had plenty of hair, light brown, going grey, and cut short, and he had no need to hide his good looks behind a moustache. Caro thought wistfully that he was exactly the kind of man every girl hoped to meet one day and marry; which was a pity, because he obviously wasn’t the marrying kind…

‘If I might have your full attention?’ enquired the Professor. ‘You are sufficiently recovered to listen to me?’

Her head and her leg ached, but they were bearable. She nodded.

‘If you could reconcile yourself to remaining here for another ten days, perhaps a fortnight, Miss Tripp? I can assure you that you are in no fit condition to do much at the moment. I shall remove the stitches from your leg in another four days and you may then walk a little with a stick, as from tomorrow, and provided your headache is lessening, you may sit up for a period of time. Feel free to ask for anything you want, my home is at your disposal. There is a library from which Noakes will fetch a selection of books, although I advise you not to read for a few days yet, and there is no reason why you should not sit in the garden, well wrapped up. You will drink no alcohol, nor will you smoke, and kindly refrain from watching television for a further day or so; it will merely aggravate your headache. I must ask you to excuse me from keeping you company at any time—I am a busy man and I have my work and my own interests. I shall of course treat you as I would any other patient of mine and when I consider you fit to travel, I will see that you get back safely to your home.’

Caro had listened to this precise speech with astonishment; she hadn’t met anyone who talked like that before—it was like reading the instructions on the front of a medicine bottle. She loved the bit about no drinking or smoking; she did neither, but she wondered if she looked the kind of girl who did. But one thing was very clear. The Professor was offering her hospitality but she was to keep out of his way; he didn’t want his ordered life disrupted—which was amusing really; now if it had been Clare or Stacey or Miriam, all pretty girls who had never lacked for men friends, that would have been a different matter, but Caroline’s own appearance was hardly likely to cause even the smallest ripple on the calm surface of his life.

‘I’ll do exactly as you say,’ she told him, ‘and I’ll keep out of your way—you won’t know I’m here. And thank you for being so kind.’ She added: ‘I’m truly sorry about me being sick and your shoes…’