Never Say Goodbye

‘Isobel.’

‘That is pretty. Come in. Thomas, how wonderful to see you again!’

She flung her arms around the doctor’s neck and kissed him warmly, and Isobel, standing back a little, thought how different he looked when he smiled like that. A pity he didn’t do it more often. And discovering that his name was Thomas made him seem different.

Not that he was. He gave her a look which clearly was meant to keep her at a distance, said formally: ‘Mr and Mrs Janssen are old friends of mine, Miss Barrington,’ and stood aside politely so that she might walk into the narrow hallway.

It led to a roomy square hall from which doors led, presumably to the rest of the flat. Christina opened one of them and said gaily: ‘Come in and sit, and we will have tea and then you shall see your rooms. Yours is the usual one, Thomas, and we have put Isobel in the corner room because from there she sees the garden below.’

She bustled round the large, comfortably furnished room, offering chairs, begging Isobel to take off her jacket, promising her that she should see the baby just as soon as he was awake. ‘He is called Thomas, after this Thomas,’ she laughed at Dr Winter, ‘and we think that he is quite perfect!’

She went through another door to the kitchen and Carl started to talk about their trip. ‘You have all the necessary papers?’ he wanted to know. ‘Without these there might be delays.’ He smiled at Isobel. ‘It is most sensible that you take Isobel with you, a good nurse may be most useful, especially as Mrs Olbinski is crippled.’ He turned to Isobel. ‘You are not nervous?’

‘No, not at all—you mean because it’s Poland? The Poles are friendly—they like us, though, don’t they?’

‘They are a most friendly people, and full of life.’ He got up to help his wife with the tea tray and the talk centred upon Carl’s work and where they intended to go for their summer holiday. ‘We have a boat,’ he told Isobel, ‘and we sail a great deal on Lake Malaren and the Baltic. The islands offshore are beautiful and extend for miles—one can get lost among them.’

‘You take little Thomas with you?’

‘Of course. He is nine months old and a most easy baby.’

‘You’ll still be here when we get back?’ Dr Winter asked casually.

‘We go in three days’ time, and if you are not back, but of course you will be, we will leave the key with our neighbours in the flat below. But you have ample time, even allowing for a day or so delay for one reason or another.’ He looked at Dr Winter. ‘She is well, your old nanny?’

‘I telephoned last week—I’ll ring again later if I may. She was very much looking forward to seeing us. And to coming home.’

‘Well, you will stay as long as you wish to here,’ declared Christina. ‘Isobel, I will show you your room and when you have unpacked, come back here and we will talk some more.’

The room was charming, simply furnished, even a little austere, but there were flowers on a little table under the window and the gardens below with the old houses encircling them reminded Isobel of Hans Andersen’s Fairy Tales. She looked at the plain pinewood bed with its checked duvet cover, and knew she was going to sleep soundly. It was a pity Dr Winter wasn’t more friendly, but that was something which couldn’t be helped. She had a shower, changed into a fresh blouse, did her face and hair and went back to the sitting room.

They ate in a tiny alcove off the sitting room after the baby had been fed and bathed and put to bed. The meal was typically Swedish, with a great dish of sprats, potatoes, onions and cream, which Carl translated as Janssen’s Delight. This was followed by pancakes with jam, a great pot of coffee and Aquavit for the men.

The girls cleared the table, but once that was done, Isobel was amazed to see Dr Winter follow his friend into the splendidly equipped kitchen and shut the door.

‘Thomas washes the dishes very well,’ said Christina, and Isobel found herself faced with yet another aspect of the doctor which she hadn’t even guessed at. Washing up, indeed! She wondered if the dignified manservant in London was aware of that and what he would have said.

She went to bed early, guessing that the other three might have things to talk about in which she had no part, and it wasn’t until breakfast on the following morning that she learnt that Dr Winter had been unable to make his call; he had been told politely enough that there was no reply to the number he wanted. He was arguing the advantages of getting seats on the next flight to Gdansk when Carl said: ‘Exactly what would be expected of you, Thomas. Keep to your plan and take the boat this evening,’ and Dr Winter had stared at him for a long minute and then agreed.

‘So that’s settled,’ said Christina. ‘Thomas, you will take Isobel to see something of Stockholm, and when you come back I shall have made you the best smörgasbörd table you ever tasted.’

So presently Isobel found herself going under the archway, back into the narrow cobbled streets with Dr Winter beside her. He had raised no objection to accompanying her, neither had he shown any great enthusiasm.

‘Do you want to go to the shops?’ he asked her as they edged past a parked van and paused outside a small antique shop.

‘No, thank you. I should like to see St George and the Dragon in the Storkyrkan, and the Riddarholmskyrkan, and then take a look at the lake. There won’t be time to go inside the palace, but if it wouldn’t bore you too much I should enjoy just walking through some of the older streets.’

He glanced at his watch. ‘Then we’d better begin with St George,’ was all he said.

He proved to be a good guide, for of course he had been before and knew the names of the various buildings and how to get from one place to the next without getting lost. And he waited patiently while she pottered round the churches, bought a few postcards with the money he offered before she realised that she would need to borrow some, and stood gazing at the lake. It was a bright morning, but cool, and she was glad of her jacket as she stood, trying to imagine what it must be like in the depths of winter.

‘Have you been here in the winter?’ she wanted to know.

‘Oh, yes, several times. It’s delightful. One needs to be able to ski and skate, of course.’ He took it for granted that she could do neither of these things, and she saw no reason to correct him.

They had coffee at a small, crowded restaurant in one of the narrow paved streets, and she made no demur when he suggested that they should make their way back to the Janssens’ flat. As they turned in under the arch once more, Dr Winter observed: ‘One needs several days at least in order to see the best of Stockholm; there are some splendid museums if you’re interested.’

‘Well, yes, I am—and there’s Millesgarden…all those statues—they’re famous, aren’t they? But I knew we couldn’t have got there this morning.’ She added hastily for fear he should take umbrage: ‘Thank you very much for taking me round. I’ve enjoyed it enormously, it was most kind of you.’

They were standing outside the Janssens’ door and it was very quiet and peaceful. He said harshly: ‘No, it wasn’t in the least kind, Miss Barrington. It never entered my head to take you sightseeing; I did it because Christina took it for granted that I would.’

Isobel opened the door. ‘Well, I know that,’ she said matter-of-factly.

After the smörgasbörd—a table weighted down with hot and cold dishes—the men went off together, leaving the girls to clear away, then put little Thomas into his pram and take him for a walk. They went through the narrow streets once more and came out by the water, finding plenty to talk about, although never once was Dr Winter mentioned.

The boat left in the early evening and after tea Isobel packed her case once more, said goodbye reluctantly enough, cheered by the thought that she would be back within the week, and went down to Carl’s car.

The drive wasn’t a long one, and once at the quay Isobel waited quietly while the two went off to see about their tickets, reappearing with a porter, and Carl then shook hands and dropped a friendly kiss on her cheek.

‘We look forward to seeing you very soon, Isobel,’ he told her. ‘Even little Thomas will miss you.’

But not big Thomas, standing there, looking as impatient as good manners would allow.

The boat was large and comfortable. She had a splendid cabin with a small shower room and set about unpacking her uniform and hanging it up ready for their arrival in the morning. Dr Winter had handed her over to a stewardess with the suggestion that she should meet him in the restaurant once the ship had sailed—that meant an hour’s time. She was ready long before then, and filled in the time reading the various leaflets she had collected about Gdansk and its harbour, Gdynia. They didn’t tell her a great deal, but she studied them carefully. Once they were there, probably Dr Winter would have his hands full seeing to Mrs Olbinski’s possessions and getting her to the ship, so she studied the map of those towns carefully too—one never knew.

He was waiting for her when she reached the restaurant, greeted her with the cool politeness she found so unnerving, and gave her a drink, and they dined presently—Swedish food, she was glad to discover; kott bullarand then fried boned herring and, once more, pancakes with jam. She didn’t linger over their coffee and he didn’t try and persuade her to stay. She wished him a cheerful goodnight and went back to her cabin, aware that he had been expecting her to ask any number of questions about the next day. In truth she had longed to do so, but had held her tongue. His opinion of her was already so low that she had no intention of making it lower. Let him tell her anything it was necessary for her to know. She fell asleep at once, rather pleased with herself.

CHAPTER TWO

ISOBEL WAS up early. She had slept well and now she was ready for her breakfast, but Dr Winter had suggested that they should meet in the restaurant at half past seven, and it was still only half past six. She rang, a shade apprehensively, for tea, then showered and dressed in her uniform and went on deck. They were close to land, she saw with a rising excitement, rather flat and wooded land with houses here and there. It was a pearly, still morning and chilly, and somehow London and home seemed a long way off. Isobel buttoned her navy gaberdine coat and wished she had put on her rather ugly nurse’s blue felt hat. There wasn’t any one else on deck and she started to walk along its length, to be confronted by Dr Winter coming out of a door.

His ‘good morning’ was polite and distant, and she was surprised when he fell into step beside her. ‘I should perhaps mention,’ he began casually, ‘that there will probably be a delay in Mrs Olbinski’s return. Carl told me there had been some trouble…’ He didn’t say what kind of trouble and Isobel didn’t ask. She was surprised when he added: ‘Are you a nervous person, Miss Barrington?’

She turned to face him. ‘If you mean do I have hysterics and screaming fits if things go wrong, no. But if a situation got out of hand, I would probably behave like most women and scream for help.’

He said seriously: ‘I must ask you not to do that; a calm, serene front is important.’

She started walking again. ‘Is there something you should have told me before we left England?’ she asked in a voice which she managed to keep calm.

‘Certainly not, Miss Barrington. I must remind you merely that each country has its own laws. Mrs Olbinski’s husband was unfortunately a dissident, so naturally they may be somewhat more strict…’

She stopped again and eyed him thoughtfully. ‘You have got all the permits?’ she asked.

‘Of course. I’m only saying that because of her circumstances there may be some delay.’ He frowned. ‘We might as well go and have our breakfast.’

‘Oh, good—I’m hungry. But before we go, where exactly are we now?’

‘Coming into Gdynia, which is the port of Gdansk. Mrs Olbinski lives in the old town of Gdansk and you’ll have a chance to see it.’