A Betty Neels Christmas: A Christmas Proposal\Winter Wedding (12 page)

Emily, her hair hanging damply down her back, her face red and shiny from too hot a bath, goggled at her. ‘Me? A tray?' she asked.

‘That's right, love. And be a dear and bring it down to the canteen at breakfast, will you?'

‘Yes—yes, of course—thanks a lot, Maggie.' She sped down the passage and into her room where there indeed was a tray laden with a teapot, milk, sugar and a mug, soup in a covered bowl and a wedge of meat pie flanked by peas and chips. Emily put the tray on the bed and got in beside it and wolfed the lot. It was over her third cup of tea that she took time to think about the Professor. It had been generous of him to see that she had some supper, or perhaps it was gratitude because he hadn't had to take her out? All her friends would think her out of her mind to have refused him anyway. But he must have taken the trouble to telephone Night Sister and speak to her about it, and considering he didn't like her, that had been good-natured of him, to say the least. She would have to thank him in the morning.

But when she did just that after his visit to Doctor Wright, all he said was: ‘But my dear girl, you're wasting your gratitude; I can't afford to have you going off sick. I want you here for another four days.'

A remark which effectively nipped in the bud any warmer feelings she might have begun to cherish towards him.

The four days seemed unending. She went home every afternoon, just for an hour or so, and because it was obvious that Louisa was becoming more and more impatient and irritable, she spent the hours there catching up on the chores which her sister declared she had neither the time nor the inclination to do. And
the twins looked peaky too. She suspected that Louisa wasn't taking them out enough, but hesitated to say so, and she would be home for four days. Louisa could be free to do what she liked while she set her little house in order and took long walks with the babies. It would make a nice change too.

Doctor Wright was leaving the hospital the day before she herself was due for her days off; he was going home with Mrs Crewe in attendance and it wasn't until he was writing his last note to Emily that she discovered that he had asked for her to go with him. When she had given him a questioning look he had taken the pad and scrawled: ‘Jurres-Romeijn wouldn't allow it; said you were in need of a rest—made him promise that if anything went wrong you'd come and nurse me.'

‘Yes, of course,' said Emily instantly, thrusting the question of what to do with the twins on one side. ‘I'll come like a shot, but you're going to be fine. Do press on with the oesophageal speech, won't you?'

‘You're as bad as Renier, badgering me back to living again.' But he smiled at her as he wrote, and his goodbye had been warm with gratitude. So had Mrs Wright's, accompanied by a large box wrapped in gay paper and tied with ribbon. Before Emily set about clearing the room of its complicated equipment and readying it for whoever was to occupy it next, she opened it. Elizabeth Arden, and lashings of it; lotions and powder and perfume, soap and several jars of face creams and a large bottle of bath essence. Emily drew in an excited breath; surely her mediocre
looks would improve with such a galaxy of beauty aids? She wrapped everything up again and when she had finally finished her work bore it carefully home.

Louisa, looking it over that evening, agreed that it was a lovely present. ‘Though personally I don't go for her,' she observed. ‘I mean, everyone, just everyone, uses Fifth Avenue.'

But Emily refused to be put out. ‘I shall use the lot,' she declared. ‘It's bound to do something for me.'

Her young sister looked at her with affection tinged with irritation. Emily was a dear and she had always been able to twist her round her little finger, but she was a bit wet; it would take more than Elizabeth Arden to change her ordinary features into anything glamorous. ‘It's worth a try,' she agreed. ‘I say, now you're back for a day or two, I can go up to London, can't I? I simply must have some undies…'

There was really no need to go up to town. The shops were adequate enough for Louisa's modest wants; Emily recognised it as an excuse and agreed without demur. Louisa had earned some fun. It didn't occur to her that she had earned some fun too, but she was happy enough in the ugly little house, cleaning and washing and taking the twins out for the long walks she had promised. The weather had cheered up a little too, so she took them down the road and then pushed the pram along the bridle path, rutted and muddy, but the woods and fields on either side, although not quite country, were pleasant. She marched along briskly, thinking about Doctor Wright and the
Professor. She had heard from various friends at the hospital that he wouldn't be there much longer and she felt a strange regret, which considering she didn't like him, seemed strange.

Louisa, happy now that she had no need to be tied to the house all day, was disposed to be generous on Emily's last day. ‘I'll take the twins,' she offered, ‘so you can go to the shops if you want to.'

There were one or two things Emily wanted, she accepted at once and then at the last minute had to alter her plans because William, cutting a tooth, became fretful and feverish. ‘He'll have to stay indoors,' she said, hiding disappointment. ‘If you don't mind staying with him, I'll take Claire out this afternoon.'

‘What about your shopping?'

‘I'll do that on the way home tomorrow.'

It was a cold day and grey as was to be expected in November, but there was no wind and Emily, pushing Claire briskly in her pram, was quickly glowing. She had taken the bridle path again, away from the streets of small prim houses because although she never said so, she hated them. One day if she was lucky, she would have a small cottage in the country with a garden. There was plenty of time, she was only twenty-three and if she got a Sister's post soon she would start to save money. It didn't need to be full of mod cons, she could improve it over the years, and sometimes one could buy up a small place fairly cheaply if it hadn't been modernised.

There was no point in dwelling on the fact that she would probably not marry. She only met the young
doctors she worked with in hospital and none of them had shown any interest in her to date. It would be nice if she did, of course…her mind wandered off into a vague dream so that she didn't at first hear the horse's hooves ahead of her, and when she did she merely turned the pram towards the hedge so that there was room for the beast to pass. She was leaning over the pram handle, encouraging Claire to take a look at the animal, when it trotted round the bend which had been hiding it. It was a very large horse, which was a good thing, for its rider was large too—the Professor, sitting at his ease and looking, as always, elegant. Emily, taken by surprise, gaped. The Professor's handsome features, however, remained calm. He reined in his horse, got down and said civilly: ‘Good afternoon, Nurse Seymour.'

She muttered a greeting, rather red in the face, and bent to inspect Claire. ‘I didn't know that you were married.' He turned to smile at Emily, and the red deepened.

‘I'm not,' said Emily.

His expression didn't alter, only his heavy lids drooped over his eyes so that she had no idea what he was thinking. ‘She is very like you,' he observed. ‘What is her name?'

‘Claire.'

‘Charming. You live close by?'

She jerked her head sideways. ‘Yes, in one of those houses over there—the last in a row, so it's not too bad.' She added earnestly: ‘I was lucky to get it.' She
went on, to make it clear: ‘It's not so easy to get a house, you know—not if you're not married.'

‘Er—probably not. I'm lost in admiration that you can work full time and run a house and a baby as well.'

‘Well, Louisa—she's my sister, is staying with me until she can go to school for modelling—she's waiting for a place.'

His eyes flickered over her sensible coat, wellingtons and woolly cap pulled well down. ‘She must be a pretty girl.'

‘Oh, she is,' said Emily enthusiastically, ‘and she's only just eighteen.'

He smiled faintly. ‘And you, Emily? how old are you?'

‘Twenty-three, almost twenty-four.'

‘And Claire?'

‘Eight months.'

‘You moved here because of her, of course,' he suggested smoothly.

Emily had her mouth open to explain and then thought better of it. He couldn't possibly be interested. She frowned a little and said ‘Yes' and nothing more. And then, because he just stood there, saying nothing, she said: ‘I must be getting on; it's cold for Claire if I stand still.'

‘Of course.' He got on his horse, raised his crop in salute and rode on, leaving her to continue her walk while she discussed the meeting with Claire, who chuckled and crowed and didn't answer back, which was nice. She was almost home again when the
thought crossed her mind that the Professor might have thought Claire to be her baby. She stopped in the middle of the pavement, so that people hurrying past had to push against her.

‘But that's absurd,' said Emily, out loud. ‘I'm not married.'

The elderly woman squeezing past her, running over her wellingtons with one of those beastly little carriers on wheels, paused to say: ‘Then you ought to be, my girl!'

Emily delivered a telling kick at the carrier; better than nothing, for she could think of nothing to answer back.

She went back on duty the next morning, on day duty now, but still on ENT. The wards were as busy as ever and Mr Spencer cheered her up by the warmth of his welcome. Of the Professor there was no sign; she went back home that evening wondering what had happened to him. She hadn't liked to ask and she had gone late to her dinner, so that she hadn't had a chance to talk to any of her friends.

He was there on the following morning, though, doing a round with Mr Spencer and his house surgeon, Sister and the speech therapist, a young woman whom Emily envied, for she was tall and slim and always said the right thing so that even the Professor listened to her when she had something to say, and smiled too. He didn't smile at Emily, only wished her a chilly good morning and requested a patient's notes. On her way home later, pedalling briskly through the crowded streets, she saw him again, driving a beau
tiful Jaguar XJ Spider. It was a silver-grey, Italian designed and probably worth a very great deal of money. He lifted a nonchalant hand in greeting as he slid past her which she had to ignore; there was so much traffic about that if she had lifted a hand from the handlebar she would certainly have fallen off.

Louisa wanted to go to the cinema, so Emily stayed home, contentedly enough because she had had a hard day. The little sitting room, rather bare of furniture, yet looked cosy enough in the firelight; she sat by it and sewed for the twins by the light of the lamp at her elbow.

There was a good programme on Radio Three and she allowed her thoughts to idle along with Brahms and Grieg and Delius. They returned over and over again to the Professor—too much so, she told herself severely; it was pointless to get even the faintest bit interested in him when he could hardly bear the sight of her. Besides, with a car like that, he obviously came from an entirely different background from her own. She folded her needlework carefully, left everything ready for Louisa to make herself a hot drink when she came in, and went to bed.

E
MILY SAW
saw almost nothing of Professor Jurres-Romeijn during the next few days; beyond stopping one morning to tell her that Doctor Wright was progressing just as he should, he had nothing to say to her other than a good morning or a good evening when he came to the ward. For some reason she felt vaguely discontented and miserable, perhaps because William had caught Claire's cold. She was worried about Mary too; she had had a guarded letter saying that they hoped to come home before very long, but it really held no news. She confided her worries to Louisa, who treated the matter more lightly. ‘Well, they must be safe enough,' she pointed out, ‘otherwise Mary wouldn't write, would she? I expect there's some sort of delay—you know what it is—some form not filled in properly…'

Emily told herself that she was fussing unnecessarily and resolved not to worry about it. Instead she worried about money. They lived on a tight budget, getting tighter every day, and sooner or later she would have to face up to what she was going to do when Louisa left home. She had suggested tentatively that Louisa might postpone the modelling school for
a month or two, to be met with such a shower of reproaches that she hadn't said any more about it. She had a few savings, she would have to use them, every penny, to pay for a babyminder—if she could find one she could trust. Mary would pay her back when they came back to England, but it would leave her with the nasty feeling that there was nothing to fall back on if an emergency cropped up.

When she got home that evening Louisa met her with scarcely concealed excitement. ‘I say,' she began before Emily could get her coat off, ‘I was out with Tracey'—Tracey was the girl across the road with whom she sometimes went out—‘well, we were just going to cross the road when this fab car pulled up to let us go over—a huge silver thing, Emily, you never saw anything like it—well, there was this terrific man sitting at the wheel…' She broke off to exclaim: ‘Why didn't you tell me, Emily?' And not waiting for an answer: ‘And Tracey said that he was the visiting professor at the hospital and when I asked her where, she said Ear, Nose and Throat Wards—you never said a word…'

‘Well, why should I?' asked Emily reasonably. ‘You're not a bit interested in hospitals or nursing. Besides, he's twice your age.'

Louisa stared at her, her great blue eyes narrowed. ‘I like older men—to think that I'm going away and all this time he was here!' She pouted prettily. ‘Darling Emily, couldn't you arrange for me to meet him? After all, you work for him.'

‘Look, Louisa, he's hardly noticed me—he says
good morning and asks for things, but that's all—I mean, we're not even acquaintances.' She remembered the meeting on the bridle path and decided to say nothing about it.

‘Anyone else would have got to know him,' grumbled Louisa. ‘What about that special patient you had—didn't he look after him?'

‘Yes.' Emily went past her sister and put on the kettle; a cup of tea might help matters.

‘And you nursed him, didn't you? And do you mean to say that he never spoke to you?'

‘Only to tell me to do things or ask about something to do with the patient.'

Louisa tossed her head. ‘You're no use at all, Emily; I believe you're scared stiff of him.'

Emily considered the matter. ‘No, I don't think so, why should I be?' She warmed the pot and spooned in the tea. ‘How are the twins? Is William better? I'll go up and have a look in a minute.'

‘They're fine. Emily, does this doctor…'

‘He's a surgeon—a professor of surgery, actually.'

‘Does he work at the hospital every day? Where does he live?'

Emily sighed; Louisa looked fragile and unable to say boo to a goose, but actually she had a will of iron and the strength of whipcord. ‘He comes most days, but only for rounds, when he's operating and I haven't the faintest idea where he lives.'

Louisa eyed her curiously. ‘Don't you want to know?'

‘No—why should I?' She poured the tea. ‘And how would I find out, for heaven's sake?'

Her sister didn't answer and Emily, not looking at her, didn't see the thoughtful look on her pretty face.

She was free the next day and she was surprised and touched when Louisa, over breakfast, offered to wash up and tidy the house while she dealt with the twins. ‘And I'll wash up after lunch, too,' went on Louisa, ‘if you wouldn't mind taking the twins for their walk while I nip down to Marks and Spencer's for some tights.'

Emily agreed; she hated washing up, and bathing and dressing the twins was much more fun than Hoovering round the house and dusting. The day passed pleasantly; she was out soon after lunch, the twins tucked warmly into their pram. But today she decided not to go along the bridle path but into the park. It looked bleak under the November sky and there weren't many people there, but she had remembered to bring some crusts for the ducks in the pond and they spent five minutes watching them gobble them up. She got back home later than she had meant to, but Louisa wasn't back; she sat the twins in their high chairs, made their Farex, coddled eggs and put orange juice in their feeding cups, laid the table for their own tea presently, and sat down between the pair of them. She was spooning food into small alternate mouths when she heard the key in the front door and called: ‘I'm in the kitchen, we'll have tea when you've got your coat off.'

The kitchen door opened with a flourish and Louisa
came in and just behind her, Professor Jurres-Romeijn.

Emily paused with a spoonful of Farex poised in front of an impatient William's small mouth. ‘Good lord,' she exclaimed, ‘however did you get here?' she added a hasty, ‘Professor.'

He didn't answer her at once but stood staring at the three of them sitting on the other side of the kitchen table. There was a gleam of amusement in his eyes although he spoke gravely enough. ‘I stand corrected,' he murmured, ‘but Claire is very like you, you know.'

Emily shot him an indignant glance. ‘You thought she was mine?'

‘Yes.' He smiled suddenly and with charm and her own mouth lifted at the corners. ‘Twins, I see…' It wasn't quite a question, but she answered him as though it was.

‘Yes, my elder sister Mary's—while she and her husband are abroad.'

‘Ah, yes, I should…'

He was interrupted by Louisa, who hadn't had a chance to utter a word so far and was getting impatient. ‘I fell down right in front of Professor Jurres-Romeijn's car, Emily, just outside the hospital, and he brought me home and do you know, he knows the street the flat's in…' She paused to smile at him and Emily thought how very pretty she was, standing there with her bright hair curling round her flushed face, her eyes sparkling.

She asked mildly: ‘Did you hurt yourself?' and popped the Farex into William's mouth at last.

‘Only just a very little—my ankle. But it's nothing to worry about.'

Claire, anxious for the rest of her tea, screwed up her face and let out a great howl and the Professor moved round the table, picked up a spoon and offered coddled egg. While Claire munched, Emily said: ‘My goodness, that was smart work. Have you children of your own, Professor?'

‘No, but any number of godchildren.'

‘He's not married,' said Louisa happily, and the Professor's mouth twitched.

‘I daresay I'm a confirmed bachelor. Does this moppet have to eat all this gluey stuff?'

Emily ladled more food into William. ‘It's Farex and awfully good for them. Yes, she'll eat the lot, but don't bother, I can manage the two of them quite easily.'

Louisa had taken off her coat. ‘Is there a fire in the sitting room?' she wanted to know, ‘because if there is we could have tea there?' She smiled at the Professor. ‘You'll have a cup of tea, won't you?'

He glanced at Emily, who took no notice. ‘Thank you, I should like that, and perhaps I should look at that injured ankle.'

‘Oh, that's almost better,' said Louisa airily. ‘Come into the sitting room.'

‘Why not here,' he asked mildly, ‘then we can finish feeding these two.'

‘Oh, Emily'll see to them…'

Emily took the hint. ‘Yes, of course I will. You see to the tea, then, Louisa.'

The Professor got up and accompanied Louisa out of the room and Emily, straining her ears, could hear them laughing and talking and the tinkle of the best tea cups and saucers being got from the cupboard. Presently Louisa came into the kitchen and put on the kettle and Emily started to clear up the twins' tea. ‘Can't you put them in their cots for half an hour, Emily?'

Emily had a wriggling infant under each arm. ‘No, you know I can't. I'll have tea later.'

She went upstairs and got the babies ready for bed and tucked them into their cots. When she went downstairs the Professor had gone.

‘He asked me to say goodbye,' said Louisa. ‘He ate three of your scones; I told him I'd made them.' She looked around the small, shabby room. ‘This is a dump, Emily, I wonder what he thought of it…'

‘Does it matter?' Emily poured herself a cup of cool tea. ‘Did you really hurt yourself, love, or did you plan the whole thing?'

Louisa giggled. ‘What do you think?' She went on excitedly: ‘He said he hoped I'd go out to dinner with him one evening. Emily, he's absolutely fab and I don't care if he is twice my age and he's got that gorgeous car. He said he couldn't believe that you were my sister.'

‘I don't suppose he could,' observed Emily dryly. ‘Did you get your tights?'

‘Tights? Oh, that was just an excuse. I say, Emily,
do you suppose he'll take me out when I'm in London?'

‘Probably, if he's there too.'

‘Didn't you know?' asked Louisa. ‘He's got a flat there—he drives up and down each day. He lives in Holland, but he's over here a lot.' Her eyes narrowed. ‘I bet he's rich.'

Emily picked up the tray. ‘Look, love, don't get carried away; you might never see him again.'

It was just as they were going up to bed that Louisa suddenly asked: ‘I say, what was all that talk when we came in—all about him standing corrected and how like you Claire was and you said something about him thinking that she was yours…' She gave a sudden shriek of laughter: ‘Emily, he thought you were the twins' mum…oh, how could he? I mean, you don't look like anyone's mum, and however did he think you could work all day and look after them as well, and run a house too?'

‘Men aren't very practical about such things, and anyway, I told him that I had you to help me.'

‘When?' Louisa frowned. ‘I thought you never spoke to him.'

‘I met him the other afternoon and I had Claire with me in the pram, so it was natural enough for him to think she was my baby, I suppose.'

Louisa had regained her good humour. ‘Oh, poor Emily, I bet you blushed!'

‘I can't remember,' observed Emily, remembering only too well that her face had been like fire for minutes on end.

She spent a long time at her dressing table before she got into bed, experimenting with Elizabeth Arden. She had never been very good at putting on make-up, but even with her inexpert hand, she thought she looked a great deal better. She couldn't use it as lavishly when she was on duty, but there was the hospital ball in ten days' time; no one had asked her to go yet, but if they did, she would; she had last year's flowered crêpe at the back of the wardrobe; better still, she would use the money she had saved for a new pair of high boots and buy a new dress, something really fashionable. She tumbled into bed and lay happily deciding exactly what she would buy—providing, of course, that she got asked.

Wonder of wonders, she did get asked. Sammy Bolt, one of the laboratory assistants, stopped her on the way to the canteen and invited her to partner him. She was so surprised that for a minute she didn't say anything. For one thing she didn't like Sammy much; he was a long-haired, trendy type with a reputation for chatting up the nurses, not at all her sort. On the other hand, it would be wonderful to have an escort. She thanked him gravely and he gave her the wide smile which he considered the girls fell for. ‘OK, I'll meet you at the front entrance at eight o'clock.'

‘Yes, all right.' She added awkwardly: ‘Thank you for asking me. I must go to the canteen now, I'm late already.'

And over dinner, when she told her friends, she added: ‘I can't think why he asked me…I mean, me!'

Her friends were as puzzled as she was; Emily was
a dear and well liked, but hardly sexy, and Sammy was a bit of a tearaway. They wouldn't have been puzzled if they could have heard him boasting to his particular bunch of cronies that he had won the bet he had made with one of them; that he'd get the staid Nurse Seymour to go to the ball with him. ‘And I'll lose her the minute we get there,' he promised. ‘I've never won a fiver so fast!'

But Emily, blissfully unaware of that, worked through the rest of her day with a tiny corner of her mind centred on the new dress she would buy and the impact it would have on everyone who saw it. Something dashing and a bit daring so that everyone would look at her twice. And that included Professor Jurres-Romeijn.

Cycling home later, she allowed the whole of her mind to centre on the important matter of the dress and arrived with her head stuffed with a splendid muddle of daydreams, instantly shattered by Louisa, who met her at the door with an ecstatic: ‘Emily, he's taking me to the hospital ball—Professor Jurres-Romeijn! He said he hadn't anyone to go with and would I like to go and I said yes—only I must have a new dress—and sandals and a wrap.' Her pretty mouth trembled: ‘I must, I must—I'll die if I can't!'

A little flicker of rage twisted Emily's insides and was instantly doused. Louisa was her sister and as pretty as a picture and she deserved all the fun she could get while she was young. The flowered crêpe would have to do—it wasn't as though anyone would notice her, thought Emily as she said in a steady
voice: ‘I'll see what can be done, love. How much would it all cost?'