The Little Dragon. Бетти Нилс

were standing on the edge of the Markt where he had parked his car, while she urged him to get in and drive away as nicely as she could without actually giving him a push, when Doctor van der Giessen’s battered Fiat drove slowly by. He saw them but he didn’t stop, only gave her an expressionless look which held no hint of an invitation to tea.

      It was a pity that Willy Caxton chose that moment to catch her by the hand and look earnestly into her face. He was only begging her to assure his aunt that he had had a delightful afternoon and to refrain from mentioning that he was leaving before he was supposed to, but she could hardly stop the doctor’s car to tell him that.

      She gave Willy only half her attention as she watched the Fiat rush round a corner and out of sight. She wouldn’t dare to go to tea now; she had wasted almost half an hour getting the wretched Willy to go, and probably the doctor thought that she had stood his tea party up for the pleasures of Willy’s tiresome company.

      Her half day was spoiled; she waved Willy a thankful goodbye and wandered away, wondering if she should telephone the doctor’s house or even go there. But in the face of that bland look she had received from the car she didn’t dare. She would write a little note. She had tea in the little tea shop by the market, composing it in her head while she did so. She went for a long walk afterwards, eating her supper in a snack bar and then walking again. The half day she had so looked forward to had been a washout.

      CHAPTER THREE

      IT WAS the following afternoon as she was returning from her few hours off duty that Constantia encountered Elisabeth. The child was crying, and so upset that Constantia had to remind her who she was before she would stop sobbing to say:

      ‘We’ve lost Prince—Pieter and Paul are looking for him too—we aren’t supposed to be out, but we left the garden door open when we got home and he ran out. We didn’t find out at first, and when we went to look for him he’d gone.’ She burst into fresh sobs and Constantia stooped to wipe the woebegone little face and say comfortingly: ‘He can’t be far, poppet, and he knows his way home, doesn’t he?’

      ‘We’ve only had him a week or two—Oom Jeroen found him in a ditch and brought him home to live with us.’ The little girl raised her tear-stained face to hers and Constantia said cheerfully, ‘Look, darling, you go home—carefully, mind, and I’ll start looking for Prince. Will you do that and wait until I come? Promise?’

      The moppet nodded and Constantia took her across the narrow street and saw her safely on her way before starting her search for the little dog. She found him within ten minutes, lying in a gutter of one of the side streets she had been methodically combing. He was lying very still, but when she ran to him he wagged his ridiculous tail. There was a spot of blood on his nose and a long wound along his ribs, but his eyes were bright.

      ‘I’ll have you home in a brace of shakes,’ Constantia promised him, ‘but I’m going to have to hurt you, my boy, so grit your teeth.’

      She scooped him up into her arms in one gentle movement and although he bared the teeth she had urged him to grit, he didn’t bite her, only whimpered.

      The doctor’s house was close by; just at the bottom of the lane and then round the corner and across the canal. She walked as quickly as she dared, telling Prince to be a good boy as she went. There was no one to be seen, but once in Oude Delft she sighted Pieter and Paul hurrying along, going away from her. Her shrill whistle turned their heads and they came running back to fetch up beside her, their anxious eyes on Prince.

      ‘He’s hurt,’ she told them in a reassuring voice, ‘but I don’t think it’s too bad. Pieter, run on and open the door, we’ll take him straight to the kitchen. And get a blanket or something to put on the table.’

      Elisabeth was at the door when Constantia reached it and broke at once into a babble of Dutch, tears still streaming down her small cheeks. ‘Now, now,’ said Constantia, ‘don’t cry, poppet—get me a towel and a bowl and some water from the tap—they’ll all be in the kitchen. Paul, where’s your uncle?’

      ‘He had to go out to a case in one of the villages. Is Prince very ill, Miss Morley?’

      ‘Call me Constantia, dear. I don’t know. We must clean him up gently, and your uncle will have a look when he gets here.’ She had reached the kitchen by now and had laid Prince down on the folded blanket. He wagged his tail as she slipped his collar off and began, very gingerly, to clean up the wound in his side. It was ugly enough but not, she thought, dangerously so, but there could be other injuries. The children stood round in a hushed circle, scarcely breathing, so intent on what she was doing that none of them heard the doctor’s quiet approach. The moment they did however, they all began to explain at once.

      ‘One at a time,’ he said calmly, and as Constantia stood back, bent over Prince. Paul’s tale was interrupted a dozen times by the others and by the time he had finished, his uncle had examined the dog, taking no notice of its lifted lip, talking to it quietly as he poked and prodded with large, gentle fingers.

      ‘A couple of ribs,’ he pronounced, ‘and a nasty cut here—there’s another one on his muzzle. I’ll get the vet and we’ll have him all right in no time.’

      Constantia heard the sighs of relief from the children, unaware that she had sighed too. She felt a warm tongue on her hand and looked down to find Sheba and Solly standing beside her, and said: ‘Oh, they’re here too.’

      The doctor turned to look at her, then: ‘They were with me,’ he told her. ‘Thank you for finding Prince and bringing him home—we’re all very grateful.’ His voice was pleasant, but he didn’t smile and she found herself stammering a little: ‘I do hope he’s not badly hurt—I’m glad that I…’

      He had turned away to bend over Prince again and none of the children answered her, indeed they didn’t look up, either. Constantia waited a moment and then went quietly from the kitchen and across the hall to the still open front door, shutting it silently behind her, and reflected as she did so that she was shutting herself out, but that the doctor had, metaphorically speaking, already done that.

      She went quickly down Oude Delft and up a side street into the Wijnhaven and so presently to Mrs Dowling’s house. She would be late, but there was nothing to be done about that now.

      Mrs Dowling was in a mood. ‘You’re late. Why?’

      Constantia took time to answer her. ‘Only a few minutes, Mrs Dowling, and I was half an hour late going off duty.’

      ‘Impertinence!’ Her patient gobbled with bad temper. ‘But it’s just as well you’re back. I’ve eaten some chocolates. I sent Nel out for some—delicious ones with soft caramel centres.’ She nodded carelessly towards a box lying on the floor beside her chaise-lounge. ‘They’re there.’

      ‘How long ago did you eat them?’ asked Constantia calmly.

      Mrs Dowling shrugged. ‘My dear nurse, how should I know? An hour—half an hour.’

      ‘Then we shall have to wait a little while and see how you feel, Mrs Dowling.’

      Her patient sat up with no trace of her usual languid movements. ‘I may go into a coma.’

      ‘Quite likely, but I shall be watching for the first symptoms and we can prevent that happening. In the meantime, I’ll ring Doctor Sperling.’

      The doctor wasn’t home. The voice at the other end of the telephone repeated: ‘Niet thuis,’ several times, and Constantia sighed as she went back to her patient. She wasn’t quite sure that Mrs Dowling was telling the truth; she was a devious woman and spoilt. She was bored too, and boredom caused people to do strange things. All the same she played safe, setting out syringe, glucose and insulin ready for immediate use, and then spent the next ten minutes coaxing Mrs Dowling to provide her with a specimen.

      Constantia hadn’t been a Ward Sister for nothing; her patient was overbearing and intent on making life hard for those around her, but she was her patient, and personal feelings didn’t come into