Small Slice of Summer. Бетти Нилс

said that you’re to stay here until Julius pronounces you fit to travel, and that won’t be for a few days.’

      ‘Of course you’ll stay,’ chimed in Georgina warmly. ‘I shall love having you; these two are driving up to Edinburgh at the weekend, to some meeting or other, and I wasn’t looking forward to being alone one bit. And now I’m going to see about your dinner, you must be famished.’

      ‘And I’ll telephone St Athel’s,’ Julius suggested, and left the room with his wife, leaving Doctor Mourik van Nie lounging on the side of the bed.

      ‘That’s settled,’ he commented, and smiled at her, and for some reason she remembered that he had smiled that afternoon when he had come upon her and Mike.

      ‘You’re all very kind,’ she said crossly, because her head still ached, ‘but I don’t like being a nuisance.’

      He got to his feet so that she had to tilt her head to look up at him.

      ‘My dear girl,’ he said, and his voice was bland, ‘the sooner you stop imagining that because one man said you were—er—old-fashioned, the rest of us are villains and you’re a failure, the better. I’m surprised at you; you seem to me to be a sensible enough girl, and when you smile you’re quite pretty.’

      He strolled to the door. ‘You’ll feel better in the morning,’ he assured her as he went out.

      Letitia stared at the shut door; probably she would feel much better in the morning, at the moment she felt quite sick with surprise and temper—how dared he talk to her like that?—it was possibly these strong feelings which caused her to burst into tears.

      She was wiping her eyes when Georgina came back, and she, after one quick glance, made some thoughtful remark about delayed shock and proffered the glass of sherry she had brought with her. ‘Dinner in half an hour,’ she said cheerfully, ‘and Julius says a good night’s sleep is a must, so he’s coming along with a sleeping pill later on.’

      Letitia sipped the sherry. ‘I’ve never taken one in my life,’ she protested, and then remembering what the Dutchman had said, added meekly: ‘But I will if he says so.’

      She felt a lot better after her dinner and better still after a long night’s sleep. Indeed, she woke early and lay watching the sun gathering strength for another warm day, and she heard the car drive away too. That would be Doctor Mourik van Nie, she supposed, and she felt an unreasonable pique because he hadn’t come to inquire how she felt, but of course she wasn’t his patient, only an unfortunate incident at the end of a long day.

      She sat up in bed, wincing a little at the pain in her ankle, and thought about him, willing to admit, now that it was morning and she was feeling better, that he had been quite right even if a little outspoken, the previous evening. She had been sorry for herself, she admitted that now, although she hadn’t much liked being dubbed as sensible, but he had said that she was almost pretty when she smiled. She smiled now, remembering it, and turned a beaming face upon the maid who presently tapped on the door with her early morning tea.

      The day rolled along on well-oiled wheels; the house came alive, breakfasted, and settled down to the morning. Julius came early, examined the ankle, pronounced it to be going along nicely and left Georgina to help her out of bed and into a chair by the window and presently they all had their coffee there, with Polly playing happily and baby Ivo asleep in his cot. It was when Julius got up to go to his study that Letitia asked a little diffidently if he had telephoned the hospital.

      ‘Did I forget to tell you? You are to stay here until I consider it all right for you to travel, and it has been left to me to decide if you need a week off after that.’

      She was unaware of how plainly her thoughts showed on her face. ‘Home for a few days?’ suggested Georgina, reading them correctly. ‘One of the men can take you up to town and drop you off at the station…’ She stopped and smiled, looking so pleased with herself that Letitia was on the point of asking why, but Julius spoke first, to say that he would be back very shortly and carry her down to the garden. ‘Far too nice a day to stay indoors,’ he pointed out kindly, and when she thanked him, adding that she hoped she wasn’t being a nuisance, he went on: ‘Of course not—we’re treating you as one of the family, Tishy, and Georgina’s delighted to have your company while we’re away, and in any case, just to prove how much we take you for granted, I’m driving her to Saffron Walden very shortly. Nanny will be here with the babies, of course, and Stephens will bring you your lunch and see that you’re comfortable. You don’t mind?’

      He had struck the right note; she felt at ease now because she wasn’t spoiling their day after all. ‘Of course I don’t mind—it will be super doing nothing. You’re both so kind.’

      Julius went away and Georgina smiled and offered to get a rather fetching housecoat of a pleasing shade of pink for her guest to wear. Letitia put it on, admiring the fine lawn and tucks and lace. It had a pie-frill collar and cuffed sleeves, and looking down at her person, she had to admit that lovely clothes did something for one…‘I can leave my hair, can’t I?’ she asked. ‘There’s no one to see.’

      Her kind hostess bent down to pick up a hairpin. She said: ‘No one, Tishy,’ hoping that Providence, already so kind, would continue to be so.

      The day was glorious. Letitia, lying comfortably on a luxurious day bed, leafed through the pile of glossy magazines she had been provided with, ate a delicious lunch Mrs Stephens had arranged so temptingly on the trays Stephens carried out to her, then closed her eyes. It was warm in the sun; she would have a crop of freckles in no time, but it really didn’t matter. She had spent a lot of money she really couldn’t afford on a jar of something or other to prevent them, because Mike had told her once that he thought they were childish. Thinking about it now, she began to wonder exactly what it was about her that he had liked. Whatever it had been, it hadn’t lasted long. She remembered with faint sickness how he had told her that she wasn’t pretty. ‘Not even pretty,’ he had said, as though there was nothing else about her that was attractive. She frowned at the thought and pondered the interesting question as to what Doctor Mourik van Nie would find attractive in a girl. Whatever it was, she felt very sure that she hadn’t got it. She dozed off, frowning a little.

      She woke up half an hour later, much refreshed, and saw him sitting in an outside garden chair, his large hands locked behind his head, his eyes shut. She looked at him for a few seconds, wondering if he were really asleep and why was he there anyway; her watch told her that it was barely half past two; theatre should have gone on until at least four o’clock. Perhaps, she thought childishly, he wasn’t really there; he had been the last person she had thought about before she went to sleep—he could be the tail end of a dream. She shut her eyes and opened them again and found him still there, looking at her now. ‘You’ve got freckles,’ he observed, and unlike Mike, he sounded as though he rather liked them.

      ‘Yes, I know—I hate them. I bought some frightfully expensive cream to get rid of them, but it didn’t work.’

      ‘They’re charming, let them be.’ His voice was impersonal and casually friendly and she found herself smiling. ‘I thought theatre was working until four o’clock today.’

      ‘It was, but at half past twelve precisely some workman outside in the street pickaxed his way through the hospital’s water supply. Luckily we were on the tail end of an op, but we had to pack things up for the day. Do you mind if I go to sleep?’

      She felt absurdly offended. ‘Not in the least,’ she told him in an icy little voice, and picked up a magazine. Unfortunately it was Elle and her French not being above average, looking at it was a complete waste of time; even the prices of the various way-out garments displayed in its pages meant nothing to her, because she couldn’t remember how many francs went to a pound.

      ‘You’re a very touchy girl,’ observed her companion, his eyes shut, and while she was still trying to find a suitable retort to this remark:

      ‘Am I right in suspecting that this—what’s his name—the Medical Registrar was the first man you ever thought you were in love