Philomena's Miracle

He turned away from the river. ‘We’ll walk back together. Have you a long holiday?’

‘A long weekend. Have you been here before?’

He shook his head. ‘I seldom get further afield than London, I’m afraid, but it just so happens that I had a few days to spare.’ He glanced at her. ‘Is this a celebration lunch?’

It was silly to feel hurt still; she said cheerfully: ‘Oh, no—it’s my youngest stepsister’s birthday.’ She had expected him to wish her goodbye when they reached the hotel again; they had walked round to the newer side of the old place, Regency and charming with its wide windows and doors and borders of spring flowers. They went in through the open drawing room door together and found her stepmother and sisters and Mr and Mrs Pierce standing there, watching them from the French window, and Philomena, who had been enjoying herself more than she could have supposed in the doctor’s company, took a sideways look at his face and felt her pleasure ebb; he had caught sight of Chloe and Miriam and was reacting just as all the other men, old and young, did. And she couldn’t blame him; they looked quite lovely; their vivid, dark beauty set off exactly by the clothes they were wearing, their lovely faces delicately made up. She felt a thrill of pride at the sight of them, mixed with regret that she couldn’t, just for a day, be as breathtakingly lovely.

It was her stepmother who spoke first. ‘Darling, we wondered where you were—we were getting quite anxious.’ An absurd remark considering she had herself told Philomena to meet them there at the hotel, but nicely calculated, thought Philomena, to give a motherly and loving impression. And I’m growing to be pretty mean, she told herself, and smiled with extra warmth to make up for it.

‘Sorry, dears—I went down to have a look at the river. I met Doctor van der Tacx there—he’s been at Faith’s. Mother…’ She made the introductions with an unconscious charm and felt wry amusement at Chloe’s and Miriam’s instant reactions. They were used to men finding them attractive and normally they didn’t pay much attention to them, accepting their admiration as their due, but in the doctor they saw someone rather different. Any girl would be more than delighted to have him dancing attendance. Philomena, exchanging small talk with Mr and Mrs Pierce, heard Miriam inviting him to the party and Chloe chiming in asking him to join them at lunch.

She supposed it was mean of her to be pleased when he declined lunch, even a drink, pleading a previous engagement, but her pleasure was short-lived because her stepmother added her own persuasive voice to Miriam’s and before he left them he had promised to come to the party that evening. His goodbyes were made a few minutes later. His manners were nice, thought Philomena, although he might have offered her rather more than the casual nod he gave her. Although, come to think of it, why should he when Chloe and Miriam were there to distract him from anyone and anything else?

During lunch she was questioned a good deal about him in a good-natured fashion. ‘Did he know that you were here?’ asked Chloe.

Philomena shook her head. ‘No, it was pure chance—someone told him the Priory was a splendid place to stay at and so he came here.’

‘And of course,’ remarked her stepmother with unintentional cruelty, ‘you wouldn’t have known him very well at Faith’s, would you? You’re hardly his kind of girl.’

A home truth which needed to be swallowed with as good a grace as she could manage. It was Mrs Pierce who changed the conversation to the all-important one of the party, and Mr Pierce who asked the attentive manager to bring another bottle of claret, both of which actions helped Philomena considerably in the regaining of her usual calm.

CHAPTER THREE

PHILOMENA HAD LITTLE TIME to think about the doctor during the afternoon. There were a dozen and one jobs to do, and as Chloe and Miriam, after helping her for an hour or so, cried off, declaring that they would be fit for nothing unless they put their feet up for the rest of the afternoon, she was kept busy until well after teatime. It was her stepmother, coming down from her room to make sure that the preparations were complete, who found her arranging the buffet supper in the dining room and told her to leave what she was doing and get herself dressed.

‘Well, I will if there’s someone free to finish this,’ agreed Philomena. But there wasn’t—Molly, reinforced by the daily woman, was busy in the kitchen, and both girls were still in their rooms, and as her stepmother pointed out with lazy good nature, she herself was quite incapable of arranging things on plates.

‘You’ll just have to hurry up, darling,’ she observed pleasantly. ‘Luckily you never take long to dress, do you?’ She paused as she was about to go out of the room, frowning a little. ‘I hope you’ve got something pretty to wear. Chloe has that apricot crêpe and Miriam is wearing leaf green—you saw them—for heaven’s sake don’t clash with them.’

‘I won’t,’ Philomena assured her. ‘I played safe—it’s cream silk and quite unobtrusive.’

‘Oh, good. How thoughtful of you, darling—you’re such a nice girl, Philly—such a pity you haven’t your sisters’ looks.’

And half an hour later Philomena heartily agreed with her, looking at her reflection in the long wall mirror in her pretty bedroom. The dress was pretty but not in the least eye-catching, although did she but know it, its demure simplicity was flattering to her pretty figure and its creamy whiteness served as a splendid contrast to her green eyes. But she didn’t see this, only that her long fine hair hadn’t a curl in it and her nose and mouth were quite nondescript. But there wasn’t much time to waste on her appearance; Chloe had given her a bottle of Vu perfume which she hadn’t cared for herself, and Philomena sprayed it on her person with a discreet hand, happily unaware that it didn’t suit her at all, and sped downstairs just in time to greet the first guests, lead them to the big sitting room and offer them drinks. Her stepmother and the girls were in the hall, the three of them making a quite startlingly lovely picture grouped together in an eye-catching pose as the guests entered the house. Philomena knew exactly the effect they would have on Doctor van der Tacx when he arrived, and she was proved correct; for he made his way across the crowded room when he caught sight of her and after a casual ‘Hullo,’ remarked: ‘What remarkably pretty girls your sisters are—they quite take one’s breath.’

Philomena eyed him calmly, reflecting that as far as she was concerned she might as well have been wearing a sack. ‘They’re quite beautiful,’ she agreed serenely. ‘And they’re clever and kind, too,’ she added for good measure and not quite truthfully. ‘They’re not a bit conceited, either.’

He stood looking down at her, very handsome in his dinner jacket, half smiling. ‘But they haven’t green eyes,’ he observed quietly as he studied her in a leisurely fashion. ‘I like your dress—it’s pretty and suits you…’ He saw her eyes flash and added: ‘I did that badly, didn’t I? Forgive me; to admire your sisters and ignore you—I suppose I felt that I didn’t need to tell you…’

‘You don’t need to tell me anything.’ She strove to keep her voice cool and faintly amused. ‘You forget that I’ve been their sister for a long time; if you didn’t admire them I should feel quite annoyed with you.’

He raised his eyebrows. ‘What an unnatural girl you are not to wish for admiration for yourself.’

She longed to tell him just how much she did wish it, but what would be the use? To stir up pity and rekindle the kindness he had shown her? She said tartly: ‘You must think I’m a halfwit to wish any such thing.’ Then she smiled brightly at him. ‘Come and meet some of our friends—we’re going to dance in the drawing room presently.’

She led him round the room and presently Miriam joined them, saying that she would take him under her wing. ‘As I expect you and Philly see enough of each other in hospital; working with people isn’t at all the same as knowing them socially, is it?’ she asked gaily. ‘If we leave you together I suppose you’ll only talk about operations and people being ill, I’m sure that’s all you have in common.’

Philomena said nothing but smiled a little and slid away to talk to old Mrs Glenville, who was really too elderly for parties but was too much a family friend to leave out, and when they all trooped into the drawing room presently she immediately accepted Mr Pierce’s invitation to partner him, trying not to notice that Miriam and Doctor van der Tacx were dancing together and looking quite the handsomest couple in the room, and later when she saw him take Chloe out on to the verandah which ran the length of the long room, she pretended not to see that too.

But it was Miriam he danced with most; the evening was more than half over before he made his way across the floor and asked Philomena to dance. She would have liked to refuse him, but she had no excuse, and besides, she warned herself, it would have been childish to have done so—and what, in heaven’s name, did she expect? So she accepted gaily and gyrated and shrugged her way through the next ten minutes; she didn’t much like dancing by herself; she supposed she was old-fashioned, but to her way of thinking, waltzing or foxtrotting with an agreeable partner was preferable to turning and twisting opposite each other with little or no chance to talk. Apparently the doctor felt the same way, for suddenly he stretched out a long arm and plucked her away from the twirling dancers and walked her out to the verandah. Once there he sat her down on one of the cane benches, said: ‘That’s better,’ and settled himself beside her.

‘Splendid exercise,’ he observed mildly, ‘but I’m too large for it. I prefer something more restful—sailing or skating.’

‘Have you a boat?’ she asked.

‘Oh, yes—I potter around the Friesian lakes whenever I have the leisure in the summer. Do you sail, Philomena?’

‘Only a dinghy.’

‘And skate?’

‘Ice skating, you mean?’ She shook her head. ‘I’d love to, though, it looks so easy.’

‘It is. When do you go back to Faith’s?’

‘The day after tomorrow.’

‘I’ll drive you up—I have to be there myself.’

Philomena hesitated; there was nothing she would like better, but he had said that he was on holiday. Perhaps he didn’t have to return quite so soon, perhaps he was just being kind again…

‘That’s settled, then,’ he said comfortably without waiting for her to answer, and then: ‘You should be sharing the glory with Chloe, shouldn’t you?’

‘Me? It’s not my birthday… Oh, you mean because I passed my Finals.’

‘Yes, I did mean that. I hear that you are also Gold Medallist for the year—are you keeping that a secret too?’

She said sharply: ‘I’m not keeping it a secret—it’s not important compared with Chloe’s birthday.’

He turned to look at her in the dim light. ‘Didn’t anyone ask you?’ he asked her quietly.

How tiresome he was with his questions! ‘Well, they had a lot to think about,’ she mumbled lamely.

‘Indeed, yes.’

The dancing had stopped for the moment and it was very quiet until Doctor van der Tacx told her with shattering frankness: ‘You’re wearing the wrong kind of perfume—much too sophisticated for you, Philomena. Did you choose it?’

She was too taken aback to be annoyed. ‘Well, no— Chloe had it given to her and she didn’t like it. It’s French and very expensive.’

‘And on the right person, quite delightful.’

‘But not me,’ she said in a small voice.

‘Not you, Philly. I…’ He paused as the door was flung wide and Miriam and a young man came out. ‘Here they are!’ she cried. ‘I guessed you’d be here, discussing the latest thing in broken bones, I suppose.’ She gave her companion a push. ‘Take Philly in to supper, Bill. I’ll see that Walle gets his, but first I want to show him the river from the bottom of the garden.’

That was the last Philomena saw of him, except for a rather vague goodnight when he said goodbye to Mrs Parsons. Chloe and Miriam were there too, of course, as the guests went home, and he wasn’t vague with either of them, she was quick to notice. Indeed, Miriam was clinging to his arm and whispering to him—it must have been something very amusing, because he laughed down at her in what Philomena considered to be a quite besotted fashion.

She was up early in the morning, helping Molly to get the house straight again, taking trays up to her stepmother and sisters, helping Molly to prepare the lunch, but presently when she had done these things she got into slacks and a sweater, told Molly that she was going riding, and left the house. There was a riding stables close by and Mr Stiles who owned it was a good friend of hers; Bessy, the little grey mare she always rode, was saddled for her and she went out of the town towards Holton Heath. There was little traffic, it was still too early in the year for that, and what weekend traffic there was on its way to Bournemouth had passed through the day before. Only one car passed her as she crossed the Wool road from the stables to take a bridle path circumventing the town—a Khamsin with the doctor at the wheel. He was going in the direction of her home and she thought wryly that he would be lucky if he didn’t have to wait at least an hour for Miriam, since it would be she he was going to see. He braked hard when he saw her, but she didn’t stop, only raised a gloved hand in casual salute before she turned Bessy’s nose into the bridle path.