Fate Is Remarkable. Бетти Нилс

had to send two of her nurses up to the wards for the afternoon because a number of the staff were off with ‘flu. Now and again, when she made a sortie into the waiting hall for another patient, she glimpsed Staff at the other end with the one junior nurse they had been left with; they were busy in Gynae too. She went back into the consulting room to find Dr van Elven dealing, with commendable calm, with the attack of hysterics which his patient had sprung on him.

      Dick Coles went as soon as they had finished and Sarah began to tidy up, although she longed for tea. It would be too late to go to the Sisters’ sitting room; she would have to make her own when she got to her room.

      The doctor was sitting at the desk, absorbed in something or other. Sarah supposed that he was in no hurry to go home—it wasn’t as if there was a wife waiting for him … She finished at length, picked up the pile of notes she intended dropping into the office on her way, and went to the door. When she reached it she said, ‘Good night, sir,’ then stopped short when he said ‘Come back here, Sarah, and sit down. I want to talk to you.’

      She did as she was asked, because when he spoke in that quiet voice she found it prudent to obey him. She sat in the chair facing him, the notes piled on her lap; she was tired and thirsty and a little untidy, but her face was serene. She looked at him across the desk, smiling a little, because in the last few days she had come to regard him as a friend.

      He sat back, meeting and holding her glance with his own, but without the smile. He said, ‘Sarah, will you marry me?’

      CHAPTER THREE

      HIS WORDS SHOCKED the breath out of her; she gaped at him until he said with a touch of impatience, ‘Why are you so surprised? We’re well suited, you know. You have lost your heart to Steven; I—I lost mine many years ago. We both need companionship and roots. Many marriages succeed very well on mutual respect and liking—and I ask no more than that of you, Sarah—at least until such time as you might feel you have more to offer.’

      She said bluntly, her grey eyes candid, but still round with astonishment:

      ‘You don’t want my love? Even if I didn’t love someone else?’

      He settled back in his chair, his eyes half closed so that she had no idea of what he was thinking.

      ‘I want your friendship,’ he answered blandly, ‘I enjoy your company; you’re restful and beautiful to look at and intelligent. I think that on the important aspects of life we agree. If you could accept me on those terms, I think I can promise you that we shall be happy together. I’m forty, Sarah, established in my work. I can offer you a comfortable life, and I should like to share it with you … and you—you are twenty-eight; not a young girl to fall in and out of love every few months.’

      He got up and came round the desk to stand beside her and she frowned a little, because it was annoying to be told that she was twenty-eight. The frown deepened. He had implied that she was too old to fall in love! As though she had spoken her thoughts aloud he said gently:

      ‘Forgive me if sounded practical, but I imagine you are in no mood for sentiment, but I hope very much that you will say yes. I shall be away next week—perhaps it will be easier for you to decide if we don’t see each other.’

      She got up slowly to face him, forgetful of the case notes, which slid in a kind of slow motion to the ground, shedding doctors’ letters, Path. Lab. reports, X-ray forms and his own multitudinous notes in an untidy litter around their feet.

      ‘You’re going away?’ Even to her own ears her voice sounded foolishly lorn. She tried again and said with determined imperturbability:

      ‘I’ll think about it. I’m rather surprised—you must know that, but I promise you I’ll think about it.’

      The words sounded, to say the least, inadequate. She looked at him helplessly and he took a step towards her through the papery confusion at their feet and looked down. He said on a laugh, ‘My God! It looks as though we’re going to spend this evening together anyway!’

      It was surprising how much she missed him, which on the face of things was absurd, for she had rarely seen him more than twice or three times a week in the clinics. She had always been aware of her liking for him, but hadn’t realised until now how strong that liking was. Perhaps it was because she had always felt she could be completely natural with him. She had lain awake a long time that first night, remembering how he had got down on his knees beside her and spent more than an hour helping her to sort out the chaos on the floor, without once referring to their conversation. She was forced to smile at the memory and went to sleep eventually on the pleasant thought that he considered her beautiful.

      She had little time to ponder her problems during the days which followed. The clinics were full and she didn’t allow her thoughts to wander. Steven came and went with Mr Binns and Mr Peppard and Sarah steeled herself to be casually friendly with him. Mr Coles, who took Dr van Elven’s clinic in his absence, was of course quite a different matter; there was no need to be on her guard with him. He worked for two, taking it for granted that she would keep up with him, and still contrived to talk about his family. There was another baby on the way, and he was so obviously pleased about it that Sarah felt pleased too.

      ‘How many’s that?’ she enquired. ‘There are Paul and Mary and Sue and Richard …’

      He interrupted her with a chuckle. ‘Don’t forget the current baby—Mike. Hugo’s already staked his claim as godfather—that makes the round half dozen. He never forgets their birthdays and Christmas. We have to warn the children, otherwise he goes out and buys them anything they ask for. Pity he’s not married himself … it’s at least fifteen years since that girl threw him over.’ He shrugged his shoulders. ‘He deserves the best, and I hope he gets it one day.’

      She visited Mrs Brown too, and found her happy and content, sitting by the new electric fire with Timmy on her lap. Sarah made tea for both and listened while Mrs Brown sang the praises of her daily helper.

      ‘A gem,’ she declared, ‘and it don’t cost me a farthing to ‘ave ‘er.’ Sarah agreed that it was a splendid arrangement and wondered if the doctor had had a hand in that as well. It was surprising and rather disconcerting to find that she knew so little about him … less, apparently, than her hostess, who disclosed during the course of conversation that he had been in to see her, and that now he had gone to Scotland. ‘It’s ever so far away,’ she confided to an attentive Sarah. ‘Up in the ‘ills, and ‘e can see the sea. ‘E’s got a little ‘ouse and ‘e does the garden and goes fishin’ and walks miles.’ She chuckled richly. ‘Good luck to ‘im, I says; nicer man never walked.’ She stroked Timmy. ‘Do with a few more like ‘im.’

      Sarah agreed with a fervour which surprised her even more than it surprised Mrs Brown, although upon reflection she was forced to admit to herself that ‘nice’ was a completely inadequate word with which to describe Hugo van Elven. She found herself beginning to count the days until his return, which wouldn’t be until the Friday afternoon clinic. Once or twice, she thought of writing to her mother and asking her advice, but how could she seek advice from someone who had never met Hugo; someone, moreover, who still thought that she would one day marry Steven? It was something she would have to decide for herself, but it wasn’t until Thursday night that she admitted to herself that she had made the decision already. Hugo van Elven represented a quiet haven after the turbulence of the last few weeks; she believed they had a very good chance of being happy together; she felt completely at ease with him, and now that she thought about it, she always had done, and she was aware, without conceit that he liked her. He needed a wife to run his home and entertain for him, and bear him company—she thought that she could do those things quite satisfactorily. It worried her that there was no love between them, but Hugo had said that companionship should suffice, and it seemed to be all that he wished for. Perhaps, later on, their deep liking for each other might turn to affection.

      She went to sleep on that thought, and when she woke in the morning, she knew that her mind was made up. Any small doubts still lurking, she resolutely ignored, firmly telling herself that they were unimportant.

      She