Visiting Consultant

His voice came quietly through the gloom of the evening. ‘Ah, yes, that is something else we must discuss, isn’t it? Goodnight.’

She stood on the pavement, watching the big car disappear into the gathering twilight, her mouth slightly open. Presently she closed it with something of a snap, and went into the house. She had two days off; she was glad. It would be Saturday when she went back on duty, there were no lists on that day, only emergencies, and the RSO was on duty for the weekend. She wouldn’t see the Dutchman until Monday.

Penny was waiting for her in the hall sitting on the stairs, school books scattered around her. She jumped up as Sophy shut the door.

‘I heard a car—Sophy, did he bring you home? Was he waiting for you? How did he know where you were?’ She paused for a much-needed breath, and sank back on to the bottom stair. ‘Where does he come from?’

Sophy unbuttoned her jacket and sat down beside her sister, kicking off her shoes for greater comfort. She said in an unemotional voice. ‘He’s the surgeon who is relieving Uncle Giles while he goes on holiday.’

Penny leaned forward and hugged her sister. ‘Sophy, how perfectly marvellous for you! Does he like you? Yes, of course he does—everyone likes you.’ She interrupted herself. ‘Uncle Giles on holiday again? But he’s only just been a month or so ago. He and Aunt Vera came back in September, didn’t they?’ Sophy chose to answer the second question first. ‘Uncle Giles is ill—I expect we shall hear about it when we go there on Sunday. He and Aunt will be away for six weeks.’

Penny absorbed this information for a moment, then went doggedly back to her first question. ‘You’ve not told me about the stranger—I still want to know. What’s he like, and what is his name, and has he fallen for you?’

Sophy laughed. ‘Oh, darling, no! He hardly spoke to me in theatre and he only brought me home because we happened to leave the hospital at the same time. He’s a very good surgeon, I imagine, and his name is Professor Jonkheer Maximillan van Oosterwelde.’ She laughed again at the expression on her sister’s face.

‘A professor,’ said Penny, ‘and with a name like that. He must be quite old; has he got grey hair?’

‘Yes,’ said Sophy. ‘It’s brushed very smoothly back without a parting and he’s got a very high forehead, but his eyebrows are as black as thunder clouds. His eyes are pale blue…’

She stopped, aware of her sister’s interested gaze, and got to her feet briskly. ‘Bill’s coming to supper on Saturday, so mind and have your homework done—you can’t expect him to help you with your maths each time he comes, you know.’

Penny giggled. ‘No, I know; but he’s a dear, isn’t he? He likes me too.’ She stated the fact without conceit and added thoughtfully, ‘I’m almost sixteen.’

Sophy said soberly, ‘Yes, dear, and he’s twenty-two and a very clever boy. In three years’ time he’ll know where he’s going—and so will you.’

They smiled at each other, and Sophy thought, ‘How strange, she’s almost eleven years younger than I am and she knows who and what she wants already. I only hope Bill is sure enough to wait until she grows up.’ She gave Penny a hug and said, ‘Let’s get supper. I’m off until Saturday; I think I shall go up to Harrods tomorrow and look around. You need a new coat for the winter—it’s your turn, anyway. If I see anything you might like at our price, we’ll go together next week and get it.’

They went off to the kitchen, happily engrossed in the rival merits of Irish tweed as opposed to a good hardwearing Harris.

Bill Evans arrived punctually for his supper, and was at once pounced upon and borne away to the shabby comfort of the small study at the end of the hall, where he good-naturedly corrected Penny’s maths. They sat side by side at the desk, while he tried to make her understand the relations of the sides and angles of triangles. Sophy, coming to fetch them, thought how exactly right they were for each other; her pretty, sweet-natured young sister and this awkward, shy boy, who was yet man enough to hide his feelings behind a gentle teasing friendliness. It was strange, but he was never shy and awkward with Penny. Even Grandmother Greenslade, whose opinion of modern youth verged on the vituperative, approved of him; amending her opinion with the rider that Penny was still a schoolgirl and was to be treated as such.

Supper was a cheerful, rather noisy meal, with a great deal of talk. Even Sinclair, prowling in and out with second helpings, joined in from time to time, accompanied and hindered by the Blot and Titus, who liked to keep track of the food. The conversation was lively and varied, largely because the Greenslades had learned that without it life would be rather dull. There was no television in the house. Sophy had decided against it, and abetted by her grandmother, who disliked it very much, had managed to persuade the others that it was something they could do without, and an expense they couldn’t afford to incur. There had been a little money when their parents died, but it was astonishing how fast it disappeared. Sophy had a fairly good salary and Grandmother Greenslade contributed her share; but only Sophy and perhaps Sinclair, who did most of the shopping, knew how carefully the money was budgeted.

They spent the evening playing Canasta and Sevens, and then Old Maid. Sophy hoped there was no significance in the fact that she was pronounced Old Maid time and time again.

She was on duty at eight o’clock on Sunday morning. There was no one about as she walked quickly to the hospital. It had been a quiet weekend in theatre so far. She hoped it would remain so, at least until she had had her free time that afternoon. She was off at one o’clock; she should be able to get to Uncle Giles by half past. She had two junior nurses on with her; they busied themselves turning out cupboards while she checked stock until they brought her coffee and went away to get their own. After they had gone the theatre was very quiet; Sophy pushed her books and forms and lists on one side, and sat rather despondently, doing nothing. Tom Carruthers, coming soft-footed into the little room, looked at her thoughtfully and said nothing. He accepted a mug of coffee and settled in the chair opposite hers. It was unlike Sophy to be down in the mouth, but he knew how fiercely independent she was, and he wasn’t one to pry. Instead, he said, ‘There’s a nasty lot in Cas: femurs, tib and fib, fractured base— Orthopaedic will have their hands full. There’s a nasty internal injuries too—not fit for anything yet, though. This evening at the earliest, I should think. You’ll be on?’

Sophy nodded. ‘Yes. I’ve a one to five—if I’m lucky. I’ll be at Uncle Giles’ as usual.’

‘He’s going on holiday; of course you know about it?’ He raised an enquiring eyebrow. ‘I must say it’s a bit of luck getting that Dutch chap to do his work. Nice fellow too. Tall as Nelson’s column and ten times as broad. Got a St Andrew’s degree, too, as well as half a dozen Dutch ones. Met him yet?’ He saw the pink stealing into Sophy’s cheeks and looked out of the window.

‘Yes, he’s very good—he took the list on Wednesday.’

Tom passed his mug for more coffee. ‘Quiet type, very amusing when he does talk, though—he’s a baron or something of that sort.’

‘A Jonkheer,’ said Sophy before she could stop herself. She had been to the Reference Library on her day off and looked it up. ‘It’s an hereditary title.’

Tom gave her a sharp glance. ‘Don’t imagine he’s the sort to broadcast it, though. Plenty of money, I hear. Drives a damn great Bentley too.’

Sophy looked suitably interested and was glad when the telephone rang and a voice demanded Mr Carruthers. He listened to the urgent voice on the other end, and said,

‘Oh, lord, Bill, just as I was going to dip into the Sunday papers. I’ll be down.’ He put down the receiver and turned to Sophy. ‘A perf. Twenty minutes suit you? I’ll go and check, but young Bill’s pretty reliable.’

The morning’s tempo changed. The smooth-running machinery of the theatre, never quite still, accelerated under Sophy’s calm direction. The case came up, was dealt with, and was back in the ward by twelve-thirty.

It was almost an hour later when Sophy rang the door-bell of the nice old house where Mr Radcliffe had lived ever since she had known him. Matty, the elderly maid who opened the door, still wore the same kind of cap and apron she had worn when she had entered the surgeon’s service almost three decades earlier. She looked prim, but smiled warmly at Sophy, and said, as she always said each Sunday,

‘Just in time, Miss Sophy; Cook’s dishing up.’

Sophy smiled too and enquired with interested sympathy about Matty’s bad leg while she took off her coat and gave it into her keeping. Left alone, she went over to the old-fashioned mirror hanging on one wall and peered into it. She looked at her face with some dissatisfaction, anchored her hair more securely, and ran a licked finger over the smooth arches of her brows.

‘Gilding the lily?’ enquired a voice; the Dutchman’s voice.

Sophy jumped, and at the same time was deeply thankful that she was wearing a jersey shirtwaister that suited her admirably. She turned to face him as casually as she was able.

‘You shouldn’t take people by surprise like that,’ she said severely. ‘It’s bad for their nerves.’ Her voice was commendably steady, even though her pulse was not.

He made no effort to move, so that she was forced to remain where she was, looking up at him. He looked her over slowly and said, ‘Very nice,’ and then, ‘Did you not expect me here?’ His blue eyes searched hers. ‘No, I see that you didn’t. Your Uncle Giles is my Uncle Giles too, you know.’

Sophy tried to think of something to say; something clever or witty or charming; she was unable to think of anything at all, and, what was worse, she was only too aware that he knew it. She looked up to meet his quizzical gaze.

‘Your aunt sent me to fetch you,’ he said quietly. ‘Are you ready?’

They crossed the hall in silence while Sophy turned over in her mind his remark about gilding the lily. He had been mocking her, of course; she had no illusions about her face.

As he opened the door he said on a laugh, just loud enough for her to hear, ‘I do believe that no one has ever called you a lily before.’

He flung the door wide, and she went in to greet the politely impatient people waiting for their luncheon.

The table around which the company settled themselves was a large mahogany masterpiece, fashioned to accommodate a dozen persons at least. Sophy found herself beside Uncle Giles; Max van Oosterwelde was at the other end of the table next to Aunt Vera, with Penny on his other side. It was apparent that they were already the best of friends. She turned her head away and concentrated on her godfather, who was carving beef with a skill which was to have been expected of him.

Sophy passed the plates, and asked, soft-voiced in the general hum of conversation, where he and her aunt were going for their holiday.

‘Dorset, my dear. Max has a nice little place tucked away down there—uses it when he comes to England. We’ve got the run of it for as long as we like. We shall leave here tomorrow. Later on, we hope to go over and stay with him in Holland, but that depends on how long I take to recoup and how long he can stay over here.’

He saw her anxious look and said quickly, ‘Don’t worry, my dear. It’s nothing desperate—my heart’s overdoing it a bit, that’s all. Nothing a good rest won’t cure.’

Sophy raised her eyes to his. ‘Is that the truth, Uncle Giles, or are you busy pulling wool over my eyes?’

He laughed. ‘The truth, girl. I’ve never lied to you, and don’t intend to start now.’ He finished his carving and sat down and helped himself to the dishes Matty was holding.

‘Can I do anything to help you or Aunt Vera?’

He shook his head. ‘No, my dear. At least, you might keep a motherly eye on Max.’

Sophy choked on a morsel of beef. ‘A motherly eye on him?’ she asked faintly.

‘Yes. Though if you prefer it, I’ll ask him to keep a fatherly eye on you.’ He laughed so richly that everyone looked at him. He beamed at them all. ‘Sophy and I are enjoying a joke together.’ He winked broadly at her and turned to her grandmother, then left her to get on with her lunch.