A Winter Love Story

‘Dinner will be served in fifteen minutes, sir. The young lady’s phone number is on your desk.’

Mr Tait-Bullen sat down at his desk and picked up the receiver. Honor Thompson’s rather shrill voice, sounding peevish, answered.

‘And about time, too. Why are you never at home? It’s so late; I’ll go on to the theatre and meet you there. The Pickerings are picking me up in ten minutes.’

Mr Tait-Bullen said smoothly, ‘Honor, I’m so sorry, but there is absolutely no chance of me getting away until late this evening. I did tell you that I might not be free; will you make my excuses to the Pickerings?’

They talked for a few minutes, until she said, ‘Oh, well, you’re not much use as an escort, are you, Thomas?’ She gave a little laugh. ‘I might as well give you up.’

‘There must be any number of men queueing up to take you out. I’m not reliable, Honor.’

‘You’ll end up a crusty old bachelor, Thomas, unless you take time off to fall in love.’

‘I’ll have to think about that.’

‘Well, let me know when you’ve made up your mind.’ She rang off, and he put the phone down and forgot all about her. He had a teaching round the next morning and he needed to prepare a few notes for that.

He ate the dinner Cork set before him and went back to his study to work. He was going to his bed when he had a sudden memory of Claudia, her fiery hair in a mess, enveloped in that old jacket and a sack. He found himself smiling, thinking of her.

The first few days of November, with their frosty mornings and chilly pale skies, had turned dull and damp, and as they faded towards winter Great-Uncle William faded with them. But although he was physically weaker there was nothing weak about his mental state. He was as peppery as he always had been, defying anyone to show sympathy towards him, demanding that Claudia should read The Times to him each morning, never mind that he dozed off every now and then.

His faithful housekeeper’s endless efforts to prepare tasty morsels for his meals met with no success at all. And no amount of coaxing would persuade him to allow a nurse to attend to his wants. Between them, Claudia, her mother and Tombs did as much as he would allow them to. Dr Willis, inured to his patient’s caustic tongue, came daily, but it was less than a week after Mr Tait-Bullen’s visit when Great-Uncle William, glaring at him from his bed, observed in an echo of his former commanding tones, ‘I shall die within the next day or so. Tell Tait-Bullen to come and see me.’

‘He’s a busy man…’

‘I know that; I’m not a fool.’ The Colonel looked suddenly exhausted. ‘He said that he would come.’ He turned his head to look at Claudia, standing at the window, lingering after she had brought Dr Willis upstairs.

‘You—Claudia, go and telephone him. Now, girl!’

She glanced at Dr Willis, and at his nod went down to the hall and dialled Mr Tait-Bullen’s number. Cork’s dignified voice regretted that Mr Tait-Bullen was not at home.

‘It’s urgent. Do you know where I can get him?’ She added, so as to make things clear, ‘I’m not a friend or anything. My great-uncle is a patient of Mr Tait-Bullen’s and he wants to see him. He’s very ill.’

‘In that case, miss, I will give you the number of his consulting rooms.’

She thanked him and dialled again, and this time Mrs Truelove, Mr Tait-Bullen’s receptionist, answered.

‘Colonel Ramsay? You are his niece? Mr Tait-Bullen has mentioned him. He’s with a patient at the moment. Ring off, my dear; I’ll call you the moment he’s free.’

Claudia waited, wondering if Mr Tait-Bullen would have time to visit Great-Uncle William or even to phone him. She supposed that he was a very busy man; he could hardly be blamed if he hadn’t the time to leave London and his patients to obey the whim of an old man who had refused his services. Then the phone rang, and she picked it up.

‘Yes,’ said a voice in her ear. ‘Tait-Bullen speaking.’

This was no time for polite chit-chat. ‘Great-Uncle William wants to see you. He says he’s going to die in a day or two. He told me to phone you, so I am, because he asked me to, but you don’t have to.’

She wasn’t sure if she had made herself clear, but apparently she had. Mr Tait-Bullen disentangled the muddle with a twitching lip and answered her with exactly the right amount of impersonal friendliness.

‘It is very possible that your great-uncle is quite right. I’m free this evening; I will be with you at about seven o’clock.’

He heard her relieved sigh.

‘Thank you very much. I’m sorry if I’ve disturbed your work.’

‘I’m glad you phoned me.’

She could hear the faint impatience in his voice. ‘Goodbye, then.’ She rang off smartly, and then wondered if she’d been rather too abrupt.

He arrived punctually, unfussed and unhurried. No one looking at his immaculate person would have guessed that he had been up since six o’clock, had missed his lunch and stopped only for the tea and bun his faithful Mrs Truelove had pressed upon him. Dr Willis was waiting for him, and they spent a few minutes talking together before they went up to the Colonel’s room. Dr Willis came down presently. ‘They’re discussing the merits of pyrenaicum aureum as opposed to tenuifolium pumilum…’

Mrs Ramsay looked puzzled. ‘Is that some new symptom? It sounds alarming. Poor Uncle William.’

‘Lilies,’ said Claudia. ‘Two varieties of lily, Mother.’

Dr Willis patted her mother’s arm. ‘Don’t alarm yourself, my dear. Your uncle is enjoying his little chat. It was good of Mr Tait-Bullen to come.’

‘But he’s not doing anything to help Uncle…’

But that was exactly what he was doing, reflected Claudia, although she didn’t say so. Instead she asked, ‘Do you suppose he will stay for supper? Mrs Pratt can grill a couple more chops.’

But when he joined them presently, he declined Mrs Ramsay’s offer of supper, saying that he must return to London.

‘I hope we haven’t spoilt your evening for you—caused you to cancel a date?’

Claudia noticed that he didn’t answer that, merely thanked her mother for her invitation. ‘If I might have a word with Dr Willis?’

They left the two men, returning when they heard them in the hall.

Mrs. Ramsay shook hands. ‘We’re so grateful to you. Uncle did so wish to see you again—although I’m sure you are a very busy man.’

He said gravely, ‘The Colonel is going to die very soon now, Mrs Ramsay; he is content, and in no pain, and in Dr Willis’s good hands.’

He turned to Claudia. ‘I was bidden to tell you to read the editorial in The Times before he has his supper.’ His hand was firm and cool and comforting. ‘He’s fond of you, you know.’

He left then, getting into his car and driving back to his house to eat the meal Cork had ready for him and then go to his study and concentrate on the notes of the patients upon whom he would be operating in the morning. Before that, he paused to think about the Colonel. A courageous old man hidden behind that crusty manner. He hoped that he would die quietly in his sleep.

Great-Uncle William died while Claudia was still reading the editorial. So quietly and peacefully that it wasn’t until she had finished it that she realised.

She said softly, ‘You had a happy talk about lilies, didn’t you, Uncle William? I’m glad he came.’

She bent to kiss the craggy old face and went downstairs to tell her mother.

CHAPTER TWO

THE Colonel had been respected in the village; he had had no use for a social life or mere acquaintances, although he had lifelong friends.

Claudia had very little time to grieve. Her mother saw the callers when they came, arranged things with the undertaker and planned the flowers and the gathering of friends and family after the funeral, but it was left to Claudia to carry out her wishes, answer the telephone and make a tidy pile of the letters which would have to be answered later.

Dr Willis was a tower of strength, of course, but he was more concerned with her mother than anything else, and Mrs Ramsay leaned on him heavily for comfort and support. She needed both when, on the day before the funeral, the cousin who was to inherit the house arrived.