No Need to Say Goodbye. Бетти Нилс

buy Harpic, liquid soap and a strong disinfectant. She bore these back with her and began a vigorous cleaning session, draped in an old apron she had found hanging in the kitchen. She paused for sandwiches and a pot of tea in the middle of the day and, satisfied with the cleanliness of the kitchen, started on the bedroom. She was on her knees poking under the cupboard when she heard footsteps in the hall below. Someone come to inspect the furniture she hoped to sell? She got to her feet, just in time to see Dr van der Linden open the door wide and come in.

      She stood, a deplorable sight in her old apron, her hair tied back anyhow, her face shining with her efforts, her hands and arms wrinkled from hot soapsuds, and she gaped at him. ‘Whatever are you doing here?’ She added a ‘sir’ hastily, and closed her mouth with something of a snap.

      ‘I happened to be passing; I’ll give you a lift back.’

      ‘But I’m not ready, it’s only three o’clock—I mean to catch the train that leaves just after five. It’s very kind of you…’

      ‘I don’t intend to leave until five o’clock in any case.’ He smiled at her, and she wondered why he looked so amused.

      ‘Oh, you’ve a patient here?’

      ‘No—at least, not one that I need to visit. I live here.’

      Her pretty mouth dropped open once more. ‘Live here? Do you? In Much Hadham?’

      He came right into the room and sat down on a chair. ‘Yes. In the High Street.’ He named one of the large eighteenth-century houses, dignified bow-windowed residences with splendid doorways, opening straight on to the street, but with large walled gardens at their backs.

      ‘Well, I never,’ observed Louise rather inadequately. ‘I thought you lived somewhere in London.’ She blushed as she spoke, because it sounded as though she took an interest in his private life.

      He watched the blush with pleasure. ‘I have a flat there, but I do my best to spend as much time as possible here.’ He stretched his long legs comfortably. ‘Don’t let me interrupt your work. When do you move?’

      ‘Oh, in a week or two; there’s quite a lot to be done first, and we can stay in Hoxton until the month’s notice is up.’ She began to wash the paintwork of the cupboard; it was all very well for her visitor to take his ease; she needed every minute of her free time if the house was to be fit to move into.

      ‘Have you found another job?’ he wanted to know.

      She gave the cupboard a final wipe, and sat back on her heels to admire her handiwork. ‘Well, I haven’t had much time,’ she pointed out reasonably. ‘I thought I’d try Stevenage; it’s a pretty big place, and there’s a lot of industry there and probably the hospital could do with more staff…’

      ‘But perhaps not a sister’s post—will you settle for day duty?’

      He spoke idly and she answered him with unthinking frankness. ‘Oh, lord, yes. I’m not going to be fussy. I shan’t have any rent to pay here; you have no idea what a fantastic difference that will make; so I can take anything I’m offered. I’d rather have a ward, of course, but I’m not out for promotion; this—’ she waved a soapy arm around her ‘—is quite the most wonderful thing that has happened to us for ages…for a longtime.’

      ‘Since your parents died?’ said Dr van der Linden softly.

      She scrubbed a windowsill with vigour; her quite wretched tongue, running away with her like that. She said ‘yes’, shortly and added, ‘It’s a lovely day…’

      The doctor’s eyes gleamed with amusement. ‘Indeed it is. Do you know anyone living here?’

      ‘No—Well, Miss Wills, who kept house for my great-aunt, she called yesterday and was very helpful—about plumbers and all that.’

      ‘A nice old lady—very respected in the village. There are some good schools round and about, but I expect you know that.’

      ‘No, I didn’t, but I hoped there would be.’ Louise put up a wet hand and swept back a lock of dark hair. ‘State or private?’

      ‘Both. Possibly your brother and sister might get scholarships. Are they happy where they are at present?’

      She was polishing a small toilet mirror on the chest of drawers; it was apple wood, not valuable but nicely made with a well-fitting drawer beneath it; with the dust washed off it, it was quite charming. ‘They hate it,’ she told him.

      ‘And you? You have hated living in Hoxton?’

      She nodded. ‘It’s been worse for Zoë—she’s young and so pretty, and she has had no fun.’

      He gave her a thoughtful look; he could only see her profile. She had a determined chin; probably she was an obstinate girl, and proud.

      ‘Very pretty,’ he agreed blandly. ‘I have no doubt that she will find a job and friends without any difficulty. How long are you going to kneel there, scrubbing?’

      ‘Until five o’clock, Dr van der Linden.’ Something in her voice implied that it was time that they got back to their usual relationship of cool, friendly respect.

      He ignored it. ‘You don’t mind if I call you Louise? After all, you are not on duty now.’ He didn’t wait for her to answer, but got to his feet and strolled to the door. ‘I’ll be back here at five o’clock; we’ll have tea and I will drive you back home.’

      He had gone while she was still trying to find a good reason for not accepting his invitation.

      ‘Well,’ said Louise indignantly, addressing the empty room, ‘it was more of an order.’ She frowned. ‘And I talked too much. Whatever came over me?’

      She attacked the bedside table with unnecessary force; it was an ordinary white-painted piece of furniture, like the bed, but when the room was carpeted and curtained and there were flowers and ornaments around it would do very well. She worked with a will; by five to five she was finished and had tidied away the bucket and brush, washed out the apron, combed her hair and done something to her face. Her hands were still red, but at least they were clean and she had nice nails, well kept and a good shape. She was locking the back door when Dr van der Linden opened the front door and walked in.

      ‘Punctual,’ he commented pleasantly. ‘You bring your disciplined working life into your private living. Very commendable.’

      A remark to which for some reason Louise took exception.

      At the back of her head had been the vague idea that he would take her to his house for tea, but she was wrong. He ushered her into the car and drove off through the village, and, when they reached Stanstead Abbots, stopped at Briggens House and ushered her inside its elegant portals and ordered tea and delicate little sandwiches and mouth-watering cakes. She enjoyed it all; all the same she felt disappointment at not going to his house—after all, it was so close to Ivy Cottage. Perhaps his wife was there—but was he married? She had never bothered about his private life before and there was no point in starting now, she reminded herself smartly, carrying on the kind of conversation she was in the habit of having with the consultant at the hospital when they stopped to chat upon occasion.

      Dr van der Linden watched her face unobtrusively, reading her thoughts very accurately, while bearing his part in their talk with the cool pleasantness he exhibited when they met at hospital, so that her uneasiness subsided; he was, after all, only doing what any charitable-minded person would do for someone they knew, however slightly.

      Bick Street, despite the neatness of its little houses, was a different kettle of fish from Much Hadham. Louise reflected that she wouldn’t feel a spark of regret when they left it. She voiced her thoughts as the doctor stopped before her front door. ‘I shall be glad to leave here,’ she said, and turned to thank him for her lift. But Zoë had opened the door and was already standing by the car, her pretty, eager face beaming at them.

      ‘I’ve just made tea; come and have a cup with us Dr van der Linden?’