Not Once But Twice

‘You won’t come back,’ observed Hilary in a satisfied voice.

‘Probably not, and certainly not to London.’ Christina beamed at them both. ‘Have you decided what you would like for a present?’ she asked.

Dr ter Brandt came for her at noon the next day, keeping the taxi waiting outside while he chatted amiably with George Henry, who had just come in from an emergency call. Which gave Christina time to take another quick look at herself in the old-fashioned wardrobe mirror. She was wearing the suit again because it seemed suitable in the elegant company of the doctor, and she wondered where they were to lunch.

She hadn’t included Claridge’s in her guessing. She got out of the taxi and looked up at its solid imposing front, then she looked at the doctor.

‘Will I do for a place like this?’ she asked simply.

He looked her up and down very deliberately. ‘Very well indeed,’ he assured her, and she said matter-of-factly:

‘Oh, that’s all right, then. I shouldn’t like to let you down.’

They had a table by the window again, shown to it by the manager of the restaurant, who greeted the doctor with the smiling respect due to a regular visitor. There was a band playing softly somewhere and the restaurant was elegant and quiet. Christina sighed as she sat down.

‘This is very delightful,’ she observed, ‘and a bit exciting to me. I expect you come here a lot?’

‘From time to time. What would you like to drink?’ And when she hesitated: ‘A dry sherry would give us an appetite, if you’d care for that?’

‘Please.’ She added with disarming frankness: ‘I don’t know much about drinks.’

‘Then you’ll allow me to guide you.’ He took the menu he had been offered and glanced across at her, already studying hers.

‘I’m famished,’ he told her placidly. ‘I shall have a steak, but how about a starter? Avocado, perhaps?’ and when she agreed, relieved to have some guidance through the enormous selection of food, ‘If you like fish, I can recommend the salmon, or perhaps lobster?’

‘Salmon, please.’ She wasn’t absolutely sure what you did with a lobster. She sat back and looked around her and the doctor looked at her. She had self-possession, that was evident, and no pretence. He had expected her to tell him that she didn’t know what to do with a lobster and he was quite disappointed because she hadn’t. She wasn’t gauche, he decided, merely deprived of the usual opportunities most girls had of going out and picking up these useful pieces of information. He would warn Adam not to make the mistake of taking her to a second class restaurant again. She would be able to cope with Buckingham Palace if necessary because she had sense and natural good manners and an honesty which he found rather touching. He couldn’t think of any of his women friends, offhand, who would have stopped outside a restaurant in order to ask if they would do.

He elaborated upon the job she had applied for while they ate their way through the most delicious lunch she had ever tasted, and watching the light-as-air profiteroles being piled on to her plate, she remarked: ‘It all sounds quite splendid—but the thing is, I’m so taken up with this gorgeous food I don’t think I’m appreciating it as I should.’

The doctor gave a great booming laugh. ‘Then I shall have to send you a job description leaflet when I get back.’

Which reminded her to ask: ‘You’re going this evening?’

‘Yes, I must.’ He didn’t tell her that he had stayed another day so that he might take her out to lunch. He had been sorry for her, but he wasn’t any more. She was one of those calm, sensible girls who didn’t allow themselves to become flustered. Adam would try and charm her out of that calmness, but Duert doubted if he would succeed. He would make sure that he didn’t anyway; she was too nice a girl to have her heart broken by the carefree Adam. There were plenty of girls who could play his game and not get hurt. The doctor, whose own tastes ran to sophisticated women whose witty conversation kept him mildly amused and who were never surprised or excited about anything at all, glanced at Christina with puzzled eyes. There was absolutely nothing about this dab of a girl to interest him, so why had he taken her out to lunch? To save her from the disappointment of not seeing Adam, he supposed idly.

‘Adam will be back tomorrow,’ he told her, and watched her face light up. ‘He has only three more weeks here; you will be quite at home in den Haag by then.’

She poured their coffee with a steady hand while she contemplated her exciting future. ‘So I shall,’ she told him. ‘When will I know? I have to resign…’

‘Oh, do that tomorrow, will you?’ and at her look of surprise, ‘I’ve recommended you for the post and I’m the director of the hospital, so the job’s yours, Christina. Let me know when you can come and I’ll arrange to have you met. You’ll need a passport, of course; I’ll see about your work permit. Have you enough money for your fare or would you like an advance?’

‘I’ve enough, thank you.’

‘Good—well, we’ll see how you get on, shall we? If at the end of a month you’re not happy, let me know.’

‘And if I don’t suit?’ she prompted.

‘Then I shall let you know.’

She wouldn’t like that to happen. He seemed such an easygoing man, but she suspected that upon occasion he could be icy-tempered, venting his rage in a cold voice on whoever had been hapless enough to incur his displeasure. Christina hoped most sincerely that she would never be unlucky enough to do that, and anyway, she wouldn’t see much of him once she was there. She didn’t know much about hospital directors, but she hardly thought he would do anything else but administrative work.

There didn’t seem much more to say after that. She finished her coffee, invented a meeting with one of the Sisters from the hospital, wished him a pleasant journey back home, thanked him for her delightful lunch and assured him that she really had to go. She wasn’t surprised when he at once asked for the bill, paid it and ushered her out of the restaurant; indeed, she was a little worried as to whether she had lingered too long, which made her goodbyes rather brisk.

‘I’ll get you a taxi,’ offered the doctor, and when she said no, thank you, she would walk as it was close by, and he asked where, his eyes gleamed with amusement when she said wildly: ‘Oh, Piccadilly Circus,’ which wasn’t close by at all.

He stood on the pavement and watched her walk briskly to the corner and into Davies Street, on her way to the crowds and bustle of Oxford Street. He very much doubted if she was going to meet anyone.

Christina got on a bus when she reached Oxford Street and went home; it was mid-afternoon, George Henry was out on his afternoon visits and she had the house to herself. She sat down at the dining room table and made a list of all the things she had to do within the next few days, then she wrote a letter of resignation ready to hand in in the morning, made a cup of tea, washed her hair and then sat down again and allowed herself to indulge in daydreams just a little. Adam cropped up in all of them.

CHAPTER THREE

HALFWAY THROUGH the next ten days Christina took stock of her situation, not because she was having second thoughts or suffering from nerves but so that she might check on her preparations. She had had confirmation of her appointment at the Theofilus Hospital, together with a letter of businesslike brevity, telling her how, when and where to travel. She had also had rather a nasty interview with the Principal Nursing Officer, who took it as a personal affront that Christina should want to leave St Athud’s, and she had borne with equanimity the endless questions and comments from her various friends and acquaintances, not to mention the rather anxious ones from Hilary, obviously terrified that she might change her mind at the last moment.

She had done some shopping too; a couple of dresses, one a soft green jersey the other a two-piece in silvery grey. These, reinforced by a handful of woollies and blouses from Marks and Spencers, last year’s tweed skirt and some slacks would do very well for a start, she considered, and then after due consideration, went out and bought a long dark green velvet skirt and a very expensive silk blouse with lace insertions to go with it. She packed the lot together with undies, raincoat and a variety of footwear and declared herself ready.