Uncertain Summer

She tried to envisage his home. Did he live in digs? It sounded like it, but surely he had a surgery—or did he share Laurens’s? She longed to ask but decided against it. Instead she started to talk about the hospital, a topic which seemed safe ground and devoid of conversational pitfalls.

It was almost midday when he turned off the A30 and took the road to Hampton where he pulled up outside the Greyhound. ‘Ten minutes?’ he suggested. ‘Just time for something quick—it will have to be sandwiches, I’m afraid, too bad we couldn’t have made it lunch.’

Serena murmured a polite nothing because her mind was so full of seeing Laurens again that even ten minutes’ stop was irksome. She drank the coffee he ordered and nibbled at a selection of sandwiches with concealed impatience.

She had exactly fifteen minutes to change when they reached Queen’s. She thanked her companion hurriedly, said that she supposed that she would see him again, and fled to the Nurses’ Home, to emerge ten minutes later as neat as a new pin and not a hair out of place. She was, in fact, one minute early on duty—and a good thing too, she decided as she made her way through the trolleys, ambulance men, nurses and patients and fetched up by Betsy, who said at once: ‘Oh, good! Thank heaven you’re here. I’m fed up, I can tell you—not a moment’s peace the whole morning. There’s a cardiac arrest in the first cubicle, an overdose in the second and an old lady who slipped on a banana skin—she’s got an impacted fracture of neck of femur—oh, and there’s an RTA on the way in—two so far, both conscious and a third I don’t even know about yet.’

‘Charming,’ declared Serena, ‘and I suppose no one’s been to dinner.’

‘Oh, yes, they have—Harris. Yes, I knew you’d be pleased, ducky, but take heart, you’ve got your two part-timers coming on in half an hour. Harris can’t do much harm in that time.’

‘You must be joking, Betsy. Thanks for holding the fort, anyway. See you later.’ Serena was taking off her cuffs and rolling up her sleeves ready for work. She cast her eyes upwards, adding: ‘If I survive.’

She paused at about four o’clock when the immediate emergencies had been dealt with and the part-time staff nurses, back from their tea, took over. In the office she accepted the tea Agnes had made for her and started to sort out the papers on her desk. It was amazing that so much could accumulate in two days. She was half way through a long-winded direction as to the disposal of plastic syringes and their needles when the telephone rang. It was Joan, wanting to know impatiently why she hadn’t been up to see Laurens.

‘You must be out of your tiny mind,’ said Serena crossly. ‘I haven’t sat down since I got back until this very minute and if I get up there this evening, it’ll be a miracle.’

She slammed down the receiver, feeling mean, and knowing that her ill-humour was partly because she hadn’t been able to get up to Surgical, and saw no chance of doing so until she went off duty that evening. She would apologize to Joan when she saw her. She poured herself another cup of tea and went back to the disposable plastic syringes.

It was gone half past nine when Serena at last went off duty. The night staff nurse and her companion, a male nurse, because sometimes things got a bit rough at night, had come on punctually, but there had been clearing up to do and Serena had elected to send the day duty nurses off and stay to clear up the mess herself. She had missed supper and she thought longingly of a large pot of tea and a piled-high plate of toast as she wended her way through the hospital towards Surgical. One of the Night Sisters was already there because it had been theatre day and there were several post-op. cases needing a watchful eye. She said ‘Hullo,’ to Serena when she saw her and added: ‘He’s still awake, do go in.’

Serena, tapping on the door of number twenty-one, wondered if the whole hospital knew about her friendship with the Dutch doctor and dismissed the idea with a shrug. He was in bed, although he told her immediately in something like triumph that he was to have a walking iron fixed the following morning and that his concussion had cleared completely. ‘Come here, my little gipsy,’ he cajoled her. ‘I’ve been so bored all day, I thought you were never coming.’

‘I told Joan…’ she began.

‘Yes, I know—surely you could have left one of your nurses in charge for just a moment or two? I was furious with Gijs getting back so late—if he’d moved a bit you would have had time to come and see me before you went on duty.’

‘He did move,’ said Serena soothingly. ‘I’ve never seen anyone get so much out of a middle-aged Mini in all my life. He was very kind, too…’

‘Oh, Gijs is always kind.’ Laurens sounded a little sulky and she gave him a startled look which made him change the sulkiness for a smile of great charm. ‘Sorry I’m so foul-tempered—it’s a bit dull, you know. Come a little nearer, I shan’t bite.’

She went and stood close to the bed and he reached up and pulled her down and kissed her swiftly. ‘There,’ he said with satisfaction, ‘now everything’s fine—no, don’t go away.’

She smiled a little shyly and left her hand in his, studying his good looks—he really was remarkably handsome. It was strange that all unbidden, the face of his cousin should float before her eyes—he was handsome too, but with a difference which she didn’t bother to discover just then, although it reminded her to ask: ‘Your cousin—I hope he wasn’t too tired?’

‘Gijs? Tired? Lord no, he’s never tired. He went back to Holland this evening.’

Serena felt a faint prick of disappointment; she hadn’t thanked him properly and now she might never have the opportunity. She said so worriedly and Laurens laughed. ‘Don’t give it a thought, he wouldn’t expect it. And now let’s stop talking about Gijs and talk about us.’

‘Us?’

He nodded. ‘I’ll be fit to get around in a couple of days—I shan’t be able to drive or dance, but there’s no reason why we shouldn’t have dinner together, is there, Serena? When are you free in the evening?’

She told him and he went on. ‘Good—I should get away from here by Thursday or Friday. We’ll dine and make plans.’

Serena, conscious that her conversation, such as it was, had become repetitive, asked ‘Plans?’

‘Of course, my beauty—there’s our glorious future to discuss.’

Serena forced herself to remain calm. All the same, he was going a bit fast for her; perhaps she should change the conversation. She asked sedately: ‘When will you go back to Holland?’ wisely not commenting upon the future.

He smiled a little as though he knew what she was thinking. ‘We’ll talk about that later. Quite soon, I expect—my mother is worrying about me. She’s a splendid worrier, though Gijs will be home by the morning and can soothe her down—he’s good at that. If ever you want a good cry, Serena, try his shoulder. He’s splendid in the part—doesn’t seem to mind a girl crying, though I can’t say the same for myself. I’ve not much patience for women who burst into tears for no good reason.’

He grinned at her and she smiled back, thinking how absurd it was for anyone to want to cry about anything at all. ‘I’m going,’ she said softly. ‘Night Sister will hate me if I stay a moment longer.’ She withdrew her hand.

‘Come tomorrow,’ he urged her as she reached the door. She turned to look at him and even at that distance, in the light of the bedside lamp, she could see how blue his eyes were. ‘Of course.’

On the way over to the home she found herself wondering what colour Gijs’s eyes were. It was ridiculous, but she didn’t know; blue too, she supposed, and now she came to think about it, he had a habit of drooping the lids which was probably why she didn’t know. In any case, it was quite unimportant.

Laurens went on Thursday, but not before he had arranged to see Serena on Friday evening. ‘I’ll be at the Stafford, in St James’ Place,’ he had told her. ‘I’ll send a taxi for you—seven o’clock, if that’s OK.’

She had agreed, enchanted that she was to see him again so soon. She had visited him every day and they had laughed a lot together, and he had been gay and charming and had made no secret of the fact that he was more than a little in love with her, and even though she still felt a little uncertain as to his true feelings she had allowed herself to dwell on a future which excited her.

For once, and to her great relief, she was off duty punctually so that she had time to bath and dress with care in a dress the colour of corn. It was very plain and she covered it with a matching wool coat; the only ornament she wore was an old-fashioned keeper ring her father had given her on her twenty-first birthday which had belonged to her great-grandmother.

The hotel was small as London hotels went, but entering its foyer, she suspected that it catered for people who enjoyed the comforts of life and were prepared to pay for them. She hadn’t thought much about Laurens’s state as regards money. He had an E-type Jaguar, certainly, but a great many young men had those, affording them at the expense of something else, but it seemed that he could afford his Jag and a good life too. She inquired for him with pleasant composure and was relieved of her coat and ushered into the hotel lounge. He was waiting for her, looking very correct in his black tie, although she found his shirt over-fussy. Even as she smiled in greeting her eyes swept down to his leg and he laughed. ‘Serena, forget your wretched plasters for an hour or two—it’s quite safe inside my trouser. I got one of the fellows to cut the seam and pin it together again.’

She laughed then. ‘How frightfully wasteful! Are you all right here—comfortable?’

A silly remark, she chided herself, but she hadn’t been able to think of anything else to say in her delight at seeing him.

‘Very comfortable,’ he told her, ‘and now you’re here, perfectly all right.’ He smiled at her. ‘Will a Dubonnet suit you, or would you rather have a gin and lime?’

‘Dubonnet, thank you. When are you going home?’

‘On Saturday—Gijs will come over for me. I’ll be back in a few weeks, though, to collect the new car.’ His hand covered hers briefly where it lay on the table. ‘Serena, will you come over to Holland—oh, not now—in a few weeks. I want you to meet my mother.’

She blinked her long lashes, her eyes enormous with surprise. ‘But why—I haven’t any holiday due.’

‘Who spoke of holidays? You can resign or whatever it is you do, can’t you?’

‘But I shall want to go back…’

‘Now that’s something we’re going to talk about.’ He smiled as he spoke and her own mouth curved in response.

She ate her dinner in a happy daze, saying very little, not quite sure that it was really all happening, until he asked suddenly: ‘Why do you wear that ring? It’s a cheap thing. I’ll give you a ring to suit your beautiful finger—diamonds, I think.’

Serena felt affronted and a little hurt, but all the same she explained without showing it that it was her great-grandmother’s and that she treasured it. ‘And I don’t like diamonds,’ she added quietly.

Her words had the effect of amusing him very much. ‘My sweet gipsy, you can’t mean that—all girls like diamonds.’

Serena took a mouthful of crême brulée and said, smiling a little, because it was impossible to be even faintly annoyed with him: ‘Well, here’s one girl who doesn’t.’

‘And that’s something else we’ll talk about later,’ he said lightly. ‘When are you free tomorrow?’

She told him happily. ‘And Saturday?’ She told him that too. ‘I’m on at ten for the rest of the day.’

‘Good lord, why?’