Fate Is Remarkable

‘Pernod would be lovely.’ She smiled suddenly, wrinkling her beautiful nose in the endearing and unconscious manner of a child.

‘What a pity that we haven’t hours and hours to spend over lunch.’ She stopped, vexed at the pinkening of her cheeks under his amused look. ‘What I mean is,’ she said austerely, ‘it’s the kind of place where you dawdle, with no other prospect than a little light shopping or a walk in the park before taking a taxi home.’

‘You tempt me to telephone Matron and ask her to let you have the afternoon off.’

He spoke lightly and Sarah felt a surprising regret that he couldn’t possibly mean it. ‘That sort of thing happens in novels, never in real life. I can imagine Matron’s feelings!’

They raised their glasses to Mrs Brown’s recovery, and over their drinks fell to discussing her refurbished room, which topic somehow led to a variety of subjects, which lasted right through the delicious food and coffee as well, until Sarah glanced at her watch again and said:

‘Oh, my goodness! I simply must go—the time’s gone so quickly.’

The doctor paid the bill and said comfortably:

‘Don’t worry—you won’t be late.’ And just for a moment she remembered Steven, who was inclined to fuss about getting back long before it was necessary. Dr van Elven didn’t appear to fuss at all—as little, in fact, as he did in hospital. She felt completely at ease with him, but then, her practical mind interposed, so she should; they had worked together for several years now.

They didn’t talk much going back to the hospital, but the silence was a friendly one; he wasn’t the kind of man one needed to chat to incessantly. There wasn’t much time to thank him when they arrived at the Nurses’ Home, but though of necessity brief, her thanks were none the less sincere; she really had enjoyed herself. He listened to her with a half smile and said, ‘I’m glad. I enjoyed it too. I hope I’m not trespassing too much on your good nature if I ask you to accompany Mrs Brown when I take her home.’ He saw her look and said smoothly, ‘Yes, I know she could quite well go by ambulance, but I have to return Timmy, so I can just as well call for her on my way. Would ten o’clock suit you? And by the way, I’ve found a very good woman who will go every day.’

Sarah said how nice and yes, ten o’clock would do very well, and felt a pang of disappointment that once Mrs Brown was home again there would be no need for her to give Dr van Elven the benefit of her advice any more. She stifled the thought at once; it smacked of disloyalty to Steven, even though he didn’t love her any more. She said goodbye in a sober voice, and later on, sitting in the hollow stillness of OPD, tried to pretend to herself that any minute now Steven would appear and tell her that it was all a mistake and he wasn’t going to marry Anne Binns after all. But he didn’t come—no one came at all.

The week flew by. She saw Steven several times, but never alone; she took care of that—although she thought it likely that he didn’t want to speak to her anyway. Perhaps, she thought hopefully, he was ashamed of himself, although there was no evidence of it in his face. She went out a great deal in her off-duty too—her friends saw to that; someone always seemed to be at hand to suggest the cinema or supper at Holy Joe’s. She made the curtains and the tablecloth too, and took them round on Friday evening. Hugo van Elven had said nothing to her about Mrs Brown or her room—indeed, upon reflection, she could not remember him saying anything at all that wasn’t to do with work.

Mr Ives let her in with a friendly, ‘‘Ullo, ducks.’ Sarah responded suitably and was led up the stairs, pausing on the way to admire the repair work he had done. When they reached the top landing he opened Mrs Brown’s door with something of a flourish and stood back, beaming.

‘Nice little ‘ome, eh?’ he remarked with satisfaction. Sarah agreed; despite the pink roses, which seemed to crowd in on her the moment she set foot inside the room, and the superfluity of furniture, it was just what she was sure Mrs Brown would like. She undid her parcel and spread the cloth on the table, and gallantly helped by Mr Ives, hung the curtains. She had been to visit Mrs Brown several times during the week and had contrived to bring the conversation round to the subject of colours. Mrs Brown had been quite lyrical about pink. Sarah stood back and surveyed her handiwork and thought that it was a good thing that she was, because there was pink enough and to spare. Mr Ives obviously had no such qualms.

‘Nice taste that doc’s got—couldn’t ‘ave chosen better meself.’

She agreed faintly, thinking of the gracious house at Richmond with its subdued colours and beautiful furniture. She told Mr Ives the time they expected to arrive and he nodded, already knowing it.

‘Doc told me last night when ‘e was ‘ere. Brought a bottle of the best with ‘im too.’ He saw Sarah’s look of enquiry. ‘Brandy,’ he explained, ‘I’m ter keep it safe and give Mrs Brown a taste now and then like; just a teaspoon in ‘er tea. Brought me a bottle for meself too. I’ll keep an eye on the old gal like I promised; I got Doc’s phone number, case ‘e’s wanted.’

He led the way down the stairs again and bade her goodbye after offering to escort her back to St Edwin’s. ‘Don’t know as ‘ow the doc would like yer out at night,’ he observed seriously.

Sarah, a little overcome by such solicitude, observed in her turn that it was highly unlikely that the doctor would care a row of pins what she did with her free time, and in any case, it was barely nine o’clock in the evening. She spoke briskly, but Mr Ives was not to be deterred.

‘I dunno about that,’ he said in a rather grumbling voice, ‘but I knows I’d rather not be on the wrong side of the doc. Still, if yer won’t yer won’t. I’ll stand ‘ere till yer get ter the end of the street—yer can wave under the lamppost there so’s I can see yer.’

Sarah did as she was told. She had a sneaking feeling that she would prefer to keep on the right side of the ‘doc’ too.

Mrs Brown was sitting in a wheelchair in the ward, waiting for her when she went along to collect her on Saturday. She looked better, but thinner too—probably worry about Timmy and her little home and all the other small things that were important to old people living alone. Sarah sighed with relief to think that the old lady would have a nice surprise when she got home. Dr van Elven greeted them briefly at the entrance, stowed Mrs Brown in the back of the car, motioned Sarah to get in the front and released Timmy from his basket. Neither he nor Sarah looked round as he drove to Phipps Street. Mrs Brown’s happiness was a private thing into which they had no intention of prying.

There were several neighbours hanging around when they arrived, and it took a few minutes to get into the house. The doctor, without speaking, scooped up the old lady, trembling with delight and excitement, and trod carefully upstairs, leaving Sarah and Timmy and Mr Ives to follow in his wake. On the landing he nodded to Sarah to open the door.

Mrs Brown didn’t quite grasp what had happened at first, and when she did she burst into tears. It seemed the right moment to make a cup of tea. Sarah bustled around while Mrs Brown composed herself and began incoherent thanks which only ended when she sat in her new armchair with a cup and saucer in her hand. She had calmed down considerably by the time the door opened and a pleasant-faced, middle-aged woman with a cheerful cockney voice came in. Sarah had no difficulty in recognising her as the ‘very good woman’ the doctor had found, and it was obvious before very long that his choice had been a happy one; the two ladies were going to get on splendidly. They got up to go presently, and Dr van Elven drove Sarah back to the hospital, saw her to the door of the Home, thanked her politely and drove away again. It was barely twelve o’clock. Sarah went up to her room; a faint stirring of disappointment deep inside her which she refused to acknowledge as regret because he hadn’t asked her out to lunch.

She saw Steven on Monday—he came in at the end of Dr MacFee’s diabetic clinic. Dr MacFee had just gone, and the place was more or less empty when Steven walked in, taking her quite by surprise. She stood looking at him, waiting for him to speak first, and was inwardly surprised to find that the sight of him, though painful, was bearable.

‘I suppose you expect me to apologise,’ he began. ‘Well, I don’t intend to. All I can say is, I’m glad we split up before I found out what a …’

He caught her belligerent eye. ‘A what?’ she enquired with icy calm. ‘I should be careful what you say, Steven—I’ll not hesitate to slap you again!’

He flung away. ‘I wish you joy, that’s all I can say!’ he shouted, as he strode through the empty waiting hall. She watched him go. He was very good-looking, and when he wasn’t angry, charming too. She sighed and went to her dinner, wondering why he should wish her joy.

Dr van Elven’s clinic was, as usual, splitting at the seams. Sarah, nipping from one patient to the other, weighing them, taking them to the Path. Lab., to X-ray, helping them in and out of endless garments, wished that he wasn’t quite such a glutton for work. She’d had to send two of her nurses up to the wards for the afternoon because a number of the staff were off with ‘flu. Now and again, when she made a sortie into the waiting hall for another patient, she glimpsed Staff at the other end with the one junior nurse they had been left with; they were busy in Gynae too. She went back into the consulting room to find Dr van Elven dealing, with commendable calm, with the attack of hysterics which his patient had sprung on him.

Dick Coles went as soon as they had finished and Sarah began to tidy up, although she longed for tea. It would be too late to go to the Sisters’ sitting room; she would have to make her own when she got to her room.

The doctor was sitting at the desk, absorbed in something or other. Sarah supposed that he was in no hurry to go home—it wasn’t as if there was a wife waiting for him … She finished at length, picked up the pile of notes she intended dropping into the office on her way, and went to the door. When she reached it she said, ‘Good night, sir,’ then stopped short when he said ‘Come back here, Sarah, and sit down. I want to talk to you.’

She did as she was asked, because when he spoke in that quiet voice she found it prudent to obey him. She sat in the chair facing him, the notes piled on her lap; she was tired and thirsty and a little untidy, but her face was serene. She looked at him across the desk, smiling a little, because in the last few days she had come to regard him as a friend.

He sat back, meeting and holding her glance with his own, but without the smile. He said, ‘Sarah, will you marry me?’

CHAPTER THREE

HIS WORDS SHOCKED the breath out of her; she gaped at him until he said with a touch of impatience, ‘Why are you so surprised? We’re well suited, you know. You have lost your heart to Steven; I—I lost mine many years ago. We both need companionship and roots. Many marriages succeed very well on mutual respect and liking—and I ask no more than that of you, Sarah—at least until such time as you might feel you have more to offer.’

She said bluntly, her grey eyes candid, but still round with astonishment:

‘You don’t want my love? Even if I didn’t love someone else?’

He settled back in his chair, his eyes half closed so that she had no idea of what he was thinking.

‘I want your friendship,’ he answered blandly, ‘I enjoy your company; you’re restful and beautiful to look at and intelligent. I think that on the important aspects of life we agree. If you could accept me on those terms, I think I can promise you that we shall be happy together. I’m forty, Sarah, established in my work. I can offer you a comfortable life, and I should like to share it with you … and you—you are twenty-eight; not a young girl to fall in and out of love every few months.’

He got up and came round the desk to stand beside her and she frowned a little, because it was annoying to be told that she was twenty-eight. The frown deepened. He had implied that she was too old to fall in love! As though she had spoken her thoughts aloud he said gently:

‘Forgive me if sounded practical, but I imagine you are in no mood for sentiment, but I hope very much that you will say yes. I shall be away next week—perhaps it will be easier for you to decide if we don’t see each other.’

She got up slowly to face him, forgetful of the case notes, which slid in a kind of slow motion to the ground, shedding doctors’ letters, Path. Lab. reports, X-ray forms and his own multitudinous notes in an untidy litter around their feet.

‘You’re going away?’ Even to her own ears her voice sounded foolishly lorn. She tried again and said with determined imperturbability:

‘I’ll think about it. I’m rather surprised—you must know that, but I promise you I’ll think about it.’

The words sounded, to say the least, inadequate. She looked at him helplessly and he took a step towards her through the papery confusion at their feet and looked down. He said on a laugh, ‘My God! It looks as though we’re going to spend this evening together anyway!’

It was surprising how much she missed him, which on the face of things was absurd, for she had rarely seen him more than twice or three times a week in the clinics. She had always been aware of her liking for him, but hadn’t realised until now how strong that liking was. Perhaps it was because she had always felt she could be completely natural with him. She had lain awake a long time that first night, remembering how he had got down on his knees beside her and spent more than an hour helping her to sort out the chaos on the floor, without once referring to their conversation. She was forced to smile at the memory and went to sleep eventually on the pleasant thought that he considered her beautiful.

She had little time to ponder her problems during the days which followed. The clinics were full and she didn’t allow her thoughts to wander. Steven came and went with Mr Binns and Mr Peppard and Sarah steeled herself to be casually friendly with him. Mr Coles, who took Dr van Elven’s clinic in his absence, was of course quite a different matter; there was no need to be on her guard with him. He worked for two, taking it for granted that she would keep up with him, and still contrived to talk about his family. There was another baby on the way, and he was so obviously pleased about it that Sarah felt pleased too.

‘How many’s that?’ she enquired. ‘There are Paul and Mary and Sue and Richard …’

He interrupted her with a chuckle. ‘Don’t forget the current baby—Mike. Hugo’s already staked his claim as godfather—that makes the round half dozen. He never forgets their birthdays and Christmas. We have to warn the children, otherwise he goes out and buys them anything they ask for. Pity he’s not married himself … it’s at least fifteen years since that girl threw him over.’ He shrugged his shoulders. ‘He deserves the best, and I hope he gets it one day.’

She visited Mrs Brown too, and found her happy and content, sitting by the new electric fire with Timmy on her lap. Sarah made tea for both and listened while Mrs Brown sang the praises of her daily helper.

‘A gem,’ she declared, ‘and it don’t cost me a farthing to ‘ave ‘er.’ Sarah agreed that it was a splendid arrangement and wondered if the doctor had had a hand in that as well. It was surprising and rather disconcerting to find that she knew so little about him … less, apparently, than her hostess, who disclosed during the course of conversation that he had been in to see her, and that now he had gone to Scotland. ‘It’s ever so far away,’ she confided to an attentive Sarah. ‘Up in the ‘ills, and ‘e can see the sea. ‘E’s got a little ‘ouse and ‘e does the garden and goes fishin’ and walks miles.’ She chuckled richly. ‘Good luck to ‘im, I says; nicer man never walked.’ She stroked Timmy. ‘Do with a few more like ‘im.’