Never Say Goodbye

They breakfasted in a comfortable silence, broken only by polite requests to pass the salt, the toast or whatever. Dr Winter’s face had lost its greyness; he was freshly shaved, impeccably dressed and very calm. Isobel, taking a quick peep, asked when she should go to Mrs Olbinski.

‘We’ll go together,’ he told her, ‘and while you’re helping her to dress I’ll go and see if her papers are in order. If so we can leave on the evening boat.’

Isobel had just coaxed Mrs Olbinski into the last of her garments when he returned to say that there would be no papers until the following morning. ‘So we may as well spend the day sightseeing,’ he finished. ‘Where would you like to go, Nanny?’

‘Oliwa,’ she said at once, ‘to listen to the organ recital—it’s at twelve noon, I believe.’

They had coffee first in the hotel coffee room and then got into the car and drove the few miles to Oliwa. The Cathedral was magnificent—twelfth century, with Renaissance Baroque and Rococo added from time to time. The doctor parked the car and they began the slow progress to its entrance with Mrs Olbinski in the middle, insisting that she would rather die than be carried. The interior was splendid, with a high vaulted roof, painted with stars and hung with the Polish flag and with old-fashioned pews, already well filled. They found seats near the back, and presently the recital started with a disembodied voice explaining in English what music would be played and the history of the Cathedral, ending with the advice to turn round and look at the organ at the back of the Cathedral when the organist broke into particularly loud music. Isobel, with Mrs Olbinski’s old hand in hers, only half listened. This was the real Poland, she thought, here in church, with the flag hanging on either side of the chancel and the quiet people sitting in the pews around her. The organ began then and she sat for half an hour, as still as a mouse, listening until the organist suddenly broke into a tremendous volume of sound. It was Dr Winter who leaned across Mrs Olbinski and touched her arm. ‘Look behind you,’ he said softly.

The organ, a massive eighteenth-century instrument, had come alive. The figures carved on it, angels with harps, trumpets, violins and flutes, were moving with the music, playing their instruments. The doctor’s hand was still on her arm; she clutched it tightly and only when the music finally faded did she let it go, dropping it like a hot coal when she realised she had been clinging to it. ‘So sorry,’ she whispered, very pink, and was hardly reassured by his inscrutable face.

They went back to Gdansk for lunch, eating it at the Pod Wieza restaurant, and when they had finished, the doctor left them there, saying he would be back presently.

He was back within half an hour, during which time Isobel and Mrs Olbinski had had several cups of coffee and a good gossip. ‘We can leave this evening,’ he told them. He glanced at his watch. ‘We’ll go back to the hotel and get our things and pay the bill, then go to your place, Nanny. From there we can go down to the quay.’

Mrs Olbinski tried not to show her excitement but her old hands shook. ‘You’re sure, Mr Thomas? Everything’s in order?’

‘Yes, Nanny, we’ll have you home in a couple of days now.’ He smiled at her gently and took out a handkerchief and wiped her eyes for her. Oh, dear, thought Isobel; he is so nice when he’s not being absolutely abominable!

Nice he might be to Nanny, but he allowed none of his finer feelings to show where Isobel was concerned. In businesslike tones he told her what had to be done, and she was kept busy, once they reached the old lady’s rooms, parcelling up the things, which were to go to her neighbour, making tea for the three of them, and packing a small bag with essentials for the journey for both herself and Mrs Olbinski.

After tea the doctor took back the hired car, found a taxi and started on the slow business of loading Nanny and her few possessions into it. The old lady was fretful from excitement and tiredness by now and hindered every move. It was with a sigh of relief that Isobel saw the ferry at last, and even then she wasn’t completely happy until they were actually stepping off the gangway on to the ship. Nanny was in tears again. She had, after all, lived in Poland for a long time and was leaving a life she had loved until the more recent years. Isobel coaxed her down to their cabin, got her undressed and into one of the bunks, and rang the bell for the stewardess. A large cheerful Swedish woman came at once; listening sympathetically she promised a light supper within the hour. Isobel unpacked the few things they needed for the night, talked Mrs Olbinski into a quiet frame of mind and when the supper came, sat down. Dr Winter hadn’t said anything about her own meal and she wasn’t sure if she wasn’t supposed to have it in the cabin too. She was trying to decide what to do next when he knocked on the door and came in.

He enquired after Nanny’s wellbeing and assured her that the stewardess would come the moment she was rung for, and invited Isobel with cold courtesy to join him at dinner. ‘We’ll go now and have a drink,’ he concluded without giving her a chance to say anything.

So she followed him to the deck above, drank the sherry he invited her to have and sat down to dinner. He had little to say for himself, and she was glad of that; such a lot had happened in the last two days, she wanted to think about them.

However, over coffee he said suddenly: ‘I think we may have to stay a couple of days in Stockholm,’ and at her look of delight, added dryly: ‘Not for sightseeing. Nanny is worn out and I’m not happy about continuing our journey until she has had a good rest.’

Isobel blushed. ‘Yes, of course—she’s been marvellous. It must have been pretty nerve-racking for her. I’ll keep her in bed and get her to rest as much as possible.’ She added: ‘She won’t like it.’

He passed his cup for more coffee. ‘That’s your business, Nurse. At least she likes you and will probably do as you ask.’

She said cheerfully: ‘Let’s hope so, I’ll do my best, Dr Winter.’ She put her cup down. ‘Thank you for my dinner—I’m going back to the cabin now. I’ll see that Mrs Olbinski is ready by the time we get to Stockholm—she can have her breakfast early and that will give us plenty of time.’

‘You’ll breakfast here?’

She said matter-of-factly: ‘No, thanks, I’ll have coffee and something when Mrs Olbinski does. Where are we to meet you in the morning?’

‘I’ll come for you.’ He got up as she prepared to leave. ‘Goodnight, Nurse.’

She gave him a friendly nod. ‘Goodnight, Dr Winter.’

He didn’t sit down again, but stood watching her neat figure as she threaded her way past the tables. If she had turned round she would have been surprised indeed to see that he was smiling.

CHAPTER THREE

MRS OLBINSKI slept like a child, and like a child, woke early, so that there was ample time to help her dress after their coffee and rolls. By the time the docks were closing in on them they were both ready, so that when Dr Winter tapped on their door they were able to go with him without the smallest hitch.

It was a fine morning with a fresh breeze blowing from the Baltic, so that Mrs Olbinski shivered a little as Isobel helped her down the gangway with the doctor in front holding the old lady’s hand—‘Like a crab,’ chortled Nanny, and allowed herself to be helped towards the Customs shed and the Passport office. There was a short delay while her papers were examined by one man, given to another to read and then handed back again, but her passport was stamped and the three of them made their slow progress to the waiting taxis. To Isobel’s questioning look, the doctor said: ‘No, Carl won’t be here to meet us. We’re going straight to their flat, although I rather fancy we shall have missed them by a couple of hours—they were going on holiday if you remember.’

The flat was empty when they reached it. Dr Winter carried Nanny up the stairs, took the door key from under the mat, and went inside. There was a note for him, and while Isobel saw to Mrs Olbinski, he read it, chuckling a good deal. ‘That’s all right,’ he said at length, ‘we may stay here as long as we wish.’ He looked at the old lady with an apparently careless eye.

‘Tired, my dear? How about bed for a while? Coffee first, though.’

Which was Isobel’s cue, she supposed, to go into the splendid little kitchen and make it. When she got back the doctor was lying back in a chair with his eyes closed and Mrs Olbinski was snoring gently. He opened his eyes as she set the tray on the table and got up to fetch his coffee.

‘Have your coffee, Isobel, then we’ll wake her and get her to bed. I think it likely that we’ll stay here for rather more than two days.’ He paused. ‘Why do you look so dumbfounded? I’d already said it was likely…’

‘You called me Isobel.’

His eyebrows rose. ‘Do you object? Since we’re to be in each other’s company for the next few days.’

‘I don’t mind in the least, Dr Winter.’ She spoke in her usual matter-of-fact voice, and wondered what would happen if she called him Thomas. Probably he would explode. She smiled at the idea and he asked sharply: ‘Why are you smiling?’

She said ‘nothing’ so firmly that it sounded almost true.

Mrs Olbinski wakened a few minutes later, declaring that she hadn’t been to sleep, only shut her eyes; all the same, when she had drunk her coffee she went willingly enough with Isobel and allowed herself to be helped into her nightgown and settled in bed. She said rather fretfully: ‘I haven’t thanked Mr Thomas—whatever must he think of me? And I’m so grateful…it will be nice to be looked after.’ She put out a hand and caught Isobel’s. ‘You’re a dear child, Isobel, looking after a tiresome old woman who can’t even remember to say thank you.’

‘Hush now,’ said Isobel, her pleasant voice gentle. ‘You’re tired and you’ve had a lot to do in the last day or so, I don’t think Th… Dr Winter expects you to thank him until you’re quite yourself again. If you have a good nap now, how about him coming here and having a cup of tea with you later on, then there’ll be time to thank him properly.’ She popped the elderly hand under the blanket. ‘I’m sure he’s tired too…all those papers…’

‘It must have taken him months, and then that delay.’ The old voice trembled. ‘I thought just for a while that I wouldn’t be able to come with you.’

‘But everything turned out perfectly all right, didn’t it?’

She went back to the sitting room once she was sure that Mrs Olbinski was asleep and found Dr Winter stretched out on the enormous sofa; he was snoring gently.

She collected the coffee cups soundlessly, bore them off to the kitchen and then went and sat down by the window. The garden below was charming; she spent some time admiring it and then, since the doctor showed no signs of waking, crept away to the kitchen to open cupboards and peer inside. Sooner or later, he would wake up and want a meal, it would help if she had some idea of what there was to cook. Soup for Nanny—that was easy; there was a row of tins, the wrappers illustrating their contents. In the freezer there was food in abundance, the only thing was that it was all wrapped and neatly labelled in Swedish. As soon as the doctor woke up she would ask him to go shopping. Thank heaven there were potatoes in plenty. She peeled some and set them on the stove ready to cook later on, then she sat down at the kitchen table and made a list of things to buy—too bad if the shops shut at noon; it was almost that already, and as far as she could remember there weren’t many shops close by, only antique dealers and smart boutiques. The list grew alarmingly. She was doing her best to cut it down to a reasonable length when the doctor joined her.