An Innocent Bride

‘I qualified when I was twenty-three…’

‘But you took more exams, I expect?’

‘Any number.’

‘But you’ve got there, haven’t you? I mean, to the top of your particular tree?’

‘Perhaps, but there is always something more to learn.’ He glanced at her. ‘Have you ever wished to train for a profession, Katrina?’

‘Oh, yes. You know how it is when you leave school; you’re full of ideas. But I’m happy with Aunt Thirza, and I’d hate to live in a town—a big town.’

He drew up outside the cottage, got out and opened her door. The little house looked charming in the afternoon sun, and Betsy was sitting by the door, waiting for them. He took the key from its hiding place, unlocked the door and they all went in.

Katrina let out a breath. ‘How awful if Aunt Thirza had been here. Whatever would I have told her?’

‘Oh, I would have thought of something feasible before you had a chance to blurt out the truth. Shall we have tea?’

‘Is there time?’She was putting the kettle on the gas ring as she spoke. She suddenly didn’t want to be left alone with her thoughts.

They drank their tea presently, not saying much and not mentioning Aunt Thirza either, and soon the professor got into his car and drove away. Katrina had thanked him for her lunch, for digging the garden, for his advice, and he had put up a large hand and begged her to say no more, so that she had the lowering feeling that she had been too effusive.

But she had other things to think about. While she got the supper ready she went over everything that the professor had told her; she mustn’t forget a word of it…

Aunt Thirza returned, full of good spirits, and Dr Peters stayed for a while, chatting about their day. ‘We must do it more often,’ he observed. ‘You and Mary have much in common, and she’s absolutely delighted that you’ve agreed to help with the church bazaar.’ He glanced at Katrina. ‘I suppose you’ll be expected to give a hand, Katrina?’

‘I’m behind the scenes this year, cutting sandwiches and serving teas.’

Over supper Aunt Thirza was full of plans. ‘I do so enjoy the summer months,’she explained. ‘Such a lot going on—fêtes and bazaars and tennis tournaments, and I hear that the church school is putting on a play at the end of term. More than enough to keep us busy.’

She put down her knife and fork. ‘I had such a splendid lunch I’m really not hungry. Did you get the digging done?’

Katrina said that yes, she had. Well, it wasn’t quite a fib put that way. ‘There’s still a lot to do. Everything’s growing nicely, though. We need some rain.’

It was surprising how difficult it was to talk about mundane things when what she really wanted to do was to fling her arms round her aunt and have a good howl.

The days slipped away in the orderly routine which Aunt Thirza had established when she retired and had no intention of altering. Katrina did her best to check the old lady’s more active interests, but it wasn’t easy. Indeed, Aunt Thirza had remarked once or twice that anyone would think that she was ill.

‘Those pills I take will soon put me back on my feet,’ she observed. ‘There are any number of things which I wish to do this summer.’

Since there was no gainsaying her, Katrina gave up urging her to eat the tasty meals she cooked, and drink the milk Dr Peters had told her would improve her condition, although she managed in a dozen ways to take over more of the household chores, pointing out that her aunt was busy enough with the various functions being organised.

But Aunt Thirza wasn’t getting better. Katrina could see that she was paler and easily tired, although she would never admit it, and Dr Peters had told her that her latest blood test showed no improvement.

‘But it’s not worse?’

He said cautiously, ‘Let us say that it is no better.’Which to Katrina’s ears didn’t sound like an answer at all.

They were to go to St Aldrick’s very shortly. Aunt Thirza had had a letter from the professor’s secretary, asking her to attend his clinic.

‘You’ll come with me,’ said Aunt Thirza, ‘and if he doesn’t keep me hanging around for too long we will have a look at the shops. I need some new teatowels—John Lewis will do nicely.’

It was already warm by the time they set out, and when they reached the hospital Aunt Thirza was tired and ill tempered.

‘This is nonsense,’ she told Katrina. ‘I’m sure there is no need for Professor Glenville to see me again. I feel perfectly well except for this tiredness, and that’s to be expected when you are as old as I am.’

‘You’re only seventy-something,’Katrina reminded her. ‘I dare say this will be the last time, just to check that everything is going according to plan.’

She sat quietly and wondered if she would see the professor. It seemed unlikely, for it wasn’t a social call and there were rows of patients for him to see. Her aunt was one of many, and she wondered again just how eminent he was. What did he do in his free time? He had hinted that he might marry, so he would spend his evenings with whoever it was he intended to marry. Did they go dancing, she wondered, or dine at some marvellous restaurant? Or did she go home with him and spend the evening eating Mrs Peach’s delicious dinners?

A nurse called her aunt’s name and Katrina watched her disappear down the short corridor lined with doors. The professor’s room was the nearest. She glanced at her watch. They had been waiting for more than half an hour and her aunt would be fifteen minutes or so. If they were to go to the shops they would have to catch a later train.

Aunt Thirza came back, some twenty minutes later, her back poker-straight, looking annoyed. She marched out with Katrina hurrying to keep up with her.

Outside, on the pavement of the busy street, Katrina said, ‘What has he told you,Aunt, something to upset you?’

Her heart gave a sickening thump. Surely her aunt hadn’t asked an outright question, demanded the truth?

‘He says I must come here again in three weeks’time. It seems the anaemia isn’t responding to treatment. It sometimes happens, he told me, and I must have patience. It may take a little longer than he had hoped. I have to get more pills from Dr Peters.’She smiled suddenly. ‘Last time I was here we mentioned the garden, and he said he had noticed that there was a small moss rose under the window, not doing too well. He has to come our way on Sunday and he asked if I would accept a rose bush—he has several in his garden and will need to discard a few. He’ll come for coffee.’

‘How kind,’ said Katrina, wondering just why he was doing that, and planning to bake a batch of her almond biscuits which sold so well at village functions. The news wasn’t good, but hopefully she would get the chance to ask him what exactly was happening. Surely there was something, some treatment—a blood transfusion—to halt her aunt’s illness.

‘Well, don’t look so glum,’said Aunt Thirza, once more her brisk self. ‘He’s rather nice. Now, let’s get a bus to Oxford Street.’

CHAPTER THREE

THE teatowels were bought, and furnished a splendid excuse to roam around John Lewis, looking at the latest goods on show.

‘What a good thing that we live in the country and don’t need to dress up,’ said Aunt Thirza, leading the way to the restaurant. And Katrina, with a last lingering look at the pretty clothes she was never likely to possess, followed her. They didn’t mention the professor over their sandwiches and coffee, and Katrina, seeing her aunt’s tired face, declared that she had a splitting headache and would Aunt Thirza mind awfully if they caught the earlier train home?

On Sunday morning Katrina got up early to make the almond biscuits, set a tray with the best china and the silver spoons, fed Betsy, and then took a cup of tea to her aunt. Her suggestion that her aunt might like her breakfast in bed called forth a snappy response. Breakfast in bed was only for those too lazy to get up, who should be ashamed of themselves, or in case of necessity—illness, or a broken leg or something similar. ‘And I’m not hungry—just tea and toast. I’ll be down in half an hour.’