Sun and Candlelight. Бетти Нилс

the bill. She sat up a little straighter; in seconds he would be beside her, and what on earth was she going to say or do?

      The man who had been staring must have moved very fast; he was there, standing in front of her, completely at ease, as the waiter came to a halt.

      ‘Well, well,’ he boomed in a genial voice, ‘how delightful to see you again—I was coming over sooner, but I quite thought that you were dining with someone…’ He looked and sounded so genuinely puzzled that she almost believed him.

      His gaze swept the table. ‘You’ve had coffee? What a pity, I intended asking you to join us. You’re waiting for your companion, perhaps?’

      Alethea felt her jaw dropping and stopped it just in time. ‘Yes—at least, I think he may not be coming back—I’m not sure… I…’ Her eyes beseeched him to understand; he looked kind and he gave every appearance of being a safe port in a storm. Normally she wouldn’t have allowed him to pick her up, for this was what he seemed to be doing, but every minute’s delay helped; Nick might come back…

      He had picked up the bill and put his hand into his pocket. ‘In that case, shall I settle this for you? He can owe it to me until we meet next time.’ He put some notes on to the plate and gave the waiter a cool look and then smiled at her. ‘I’ll see you home,’ he said easily. ‘My friends are leaving anyway,’ he added quite loudly, ‘it is so long since we last saw each other we should find plenty to talk about.’

      Alethea managed a feeble yes and wondered why he had raised his voice and then saw that the people at the tables on either side were listening, so she smiled and said: ‘Oh, yes,’ and then heaved a sigh of relief. Once outside she could explain to him and thank him for helping her out of a nasty situation; he must have seen Nick getting angry with her and then leaving; it was a miracle that no one else had. The waiter smiled and bowed as she got up and went to the door, her lovely head high, very conscious of the man towering over her. He waited in the small lobby while she got her coat and then accompanied her outside into the April evening. They had walked a few paces along the pavement before she stopped and looked up at him.

      ‘That was most kind of you,’ she said in a voice made wooden by embarrassment. ‘If you would let me know your name and address I’ll send you a cheque first thing in the morning.’ And when he didn’t answer her she went on a little desperately: ‘He—he said he had to leave suddenly—so unfortunate. He’s a surgeon—he quite forgot about the bill…’ Her voice tailed off into an unbelieving silence, and suddenly, staring up into the calm face lighted by the street lamp, she couldn’t contain herself any longer. Rage and humiliation and fright boiled up together and combined into a sob. Worse, her eyes filled with tears and she, who almost never cried, was unable to stop them rolling down her cheeks. She wiped them away with an impatient hand and said in a voice made high by her feelings and the hock she had drunk with her dinner: ‘That’s not true—he left because I wouldn’t spend the weekend with him at Brighton.’ She hiccoughed. ‘I thought he was going to ask me to marry him.’ Her voice rose even higher. ‘I bought a new dress!’ she wailed.

      Her companion didn’t smile, he looked at her gravely and spoke just as gravely. ‘It is a very pretty dress.’ The way he said it made it sound like a delightful compliment. ‘I’m going to call a taxi and take you back to wherever you want to go. A hospital? You mentioned that your—er—companion was a surgeon.’

      Alethea gave a great sniff. ‘Yes—Theobald’s, but there’s no need for you to come with me, I’m quite all right now, and thank you very much…’

      ‘Nevertheless if you can bear with my company, I shall accompany you, Miss…er…?’

      ‘Thomas. Alethea Thomas.’ She took the handkerchief he was holding out and dabbed at her face. ‘But what about your friends?’

      ‘They were about to leave anyway, we were saying our goodbyes…’ He lifted an arm and a taxi slid in to the kerb. ‘I think a cup of coffee on the way might be a good idea.’ He gave some directions to the driver as she got in and then got in beside her. ‘I asked him to pull up at the next coffee stall we pass.’

      They sat in silence until the taxi stopped and the driver enquired if that particular stall would do.

      ‘Very well, and pray join us.’ So that Alethea had a double escort across the pavement, the two men chatting easily about the latest boxing match. Really, she thought, she might just as well not have been there, only to find herself mistaken; she was seated carefully on a stool and the taxi driver mounted guard over her while her rescuer fetched three thick mugs of rich coffee and then engaged her in undemanding conversation in which the taxi driver joined, carefully not looking at her puffy face and both of them standing so that no one else there could get a good look at her. Not all men were beastly, she reflected.

      Neither man seemed to be in a hurry, and it was a good twenty minutes later when they climbed back into the taxi, and by then Alethea’s face was almost normal and although she still felt dreadful she was hiding it successfully enough behind a calm which matched her companion’s. They were almost at the hospital when she said: ‘I don’t know your name.’

      ‘Van Diederijk—Sarre van Diederijk.’

      ‘Oh, Dutch. Your English is perfect…’

      ‘Thank you.’ The taxi had stopped and he got out, spoke to the driver and started to walk with her to the side entrance across the forecourt. She stopped then to protest. ‘I go in at that door, thank you. I can walk through the hospital to the Nurses’ Home.’ She put out a hand, but he didn’t shake it as he was meant to, but held it firmly and began to walk on again. ‘I’ll see you to the Home,’ he observed, and took no notice of her murmur.

      It was late, but not as late as all that; the night staff were still settling patients for the night; Alethea recognised the familiar sounds as they crossed the hall and started down a long corridor running towards the rear of the hospital; the soft hurried tread of the nurses, the squeak of trolley wheels, the telephone, the vague subdued murmur of a great many people as ward doors opened and closed. She turned a corner, Mr van Diederijk hard on her heels, and felt his hand close on her arm at the same moment as she saw Nick coming along the corridor towards them. He was still in his dinner jacket, strolling along, a cigarette in his mouth. He looked as though he hadn’t a care in the world until he caught sight of them. He paused then and for one moment Alethea thought that he was going to turn round and go back the way he had come. But he thought better of it, hurrying past them as though he had something urgent to do, glancing angrily at her as he went.

      ‘Your companion of this evening?’ asked Mr van Diederijk mildly.

      Alethea said yes in a miserable little voice. For a split second she had hoped that Nick would stop; she conceded that to apologise before a complete stranger would be a great test of his feelings for her, but it seemed that she wasn’t worth it. Her companion’s voice was very comforting. ‘In that case how fortunate that I happened to be with you.’

      She saw at once what he meant. If Nick had seen her creeping back on her own her mortification would have been complete, as it was he had been left to wonder just how she had replaced him so quickly…

      At the narrow door set in the wall at the end of the corridor she put out a hand. ‘You’ve been very kind, I can’t thank you enough. And please give me your address so that I can send you a cheque in the morning.’

      He went on holding her hand in an absentminded fashion. ‘Ah, yes—I’ll leave it at the porter’s lodge as I go, shall I?’ His smile was very kind. ‘I’m glad that I could be of service—such a small thing, really, you know. And don’t worry; these little differences are bound to crop up; they seem terrible at the time, but probably by the morning he’ll be on his knees to you.’

      She gave him an earnest look. ‘Oh, do you really think so? But he did say…’

      ‘People say the strangest things at times,’ he pointed out in his placid way so that she felt instantly lulled into a more cheerful state of mind. He opened the door then and held it while she went