An Ordinary Girl

‘Don’t expect to be asked in,’ said Sybil spitefully.

‘Well, no,’ said the Professor cheerfully. ‘In any case I must get Clive to his friends.’

‘I shall expect you to phone tonight,’ said Sybil, and swept past him.

Back in the car, the Professor invited Clive to sit beside him. ‘For I’m not quite sure where you want to go.’

‘Drop me off at a bus stop,’ said Clive, ‘so’s you can get off home.’

‘No question of that. Which end of Hackney do you want? The Bethnal Green end or the Marshes?’

‘Cor, you know your London. Bethnal Green end—Meadow Road. End house on the left.’ He added gruffly, ‘Me and my girl, we’ve got engaged, see? We’re having a bit of a party …’

The doctor drove across the city’s empty Sunday streets and stopped before the end house in a narrow road lined by small brick houses.

They got the bike down off the roof and Clive said, ‘You will come in for a mo? Not quite your style, but a cuppa might be welcome?’

The doctor agreed that it would and spent fifteen minutes or so drinking a strong, dark brown drink which he supposed was tea while he made the acquaintance of Clive’s girl and his family.

It was a pleasant end to a long day, he thought, driving himself home at last.

Home was a ground-floor flat behind the Embankment overlooking the Thames. The doctor parked the car, and before he could put his key in the house door it was opened by a short sturdy man with grizzled hair and a long, mournful face. Jolly—inaptly named, it had to be admitted—was the manservant whom the doctor had inherited with the flat, along with a charming stone cottage in Berkshire and a croft in the Western Highlands.

With the respectful familiarity of an old servant Jolly greeted the doctor with some severity. ‘Got caught in all that snow, did you? Car’s not damaged?’

‘No, no, Jolly, and nor am I. I’m hungry.’

‘I guessed you would be. It’ll be on the table in fifteen minutes.’ He took the doctor’s coat and case from him. ‘Found shelter, did you?’

‘Indeed we did. At a place called Nether Ditchling—at the vicarage. Charming people. There were others caught in the snow as well—a houseful.’ He clapped Jolly on the shoulder. ‘I enjoyed every minute of it.’

‘Not quite Miss West’s cup of tea. She’s not one for the country.’

‘I’m afraid she disliked it, although we were treated with the greatest kindness.’

He picked up his letters and messages from the tray on the console table. ‘Did you ring the cottage?’

‘Yes. Plenty of snow, Mrs Willett says, but she’s snug enough—hopes you’ll be down to see her soon, says George misses you.’

The Professor was going down the hall to this study. ‘I’ll try and go next weekend. George could do with a good walk and so could I.’

Presently he ate the splendid meal Jolly had ready, then went back to his study to consider his week’s work ahead. He had fully intended to phone Sybil, but by the time he remembered to do so it was too late. He would find time in the morning.

It was gone midnight before he went to his bed and he didn’t sleep at once. He had enjoyed his weekend and he had enjoyed meeting Philomena. He smiled at the memory of her small figure bundled in that old hooded cape—and there had been a feeling when they had met—as though they had known each other for a long time …