Tabitha in Moonlight. Бетти Нилс

want it. The silver’s ’is and them pictures and the desk; there’s a case under the bed too.’ She crossed the room to open the drawers in a chest under the window. ‘’Ere’s ’is clothes.’ She went back to the door. ‘Don’t take nothing of mine,’ she cautioned as she went.

      Tabitha already had Mr Bow’s case open on the bed. She crossed the room and in her turn, started to investigate the chest of drawers.

      ‘Poor old gentleman,’ she observed, half to herself, ‘how he must have hated it here.’

      Mr van Beek had seated himself upon the table, swinging one long leg and looking around him in a thoughtful manner. ‘Are you in a hurry?’ he asked for the second time that evening.

      Tabitha had scooped up an armful of clothes. ‘Not really,’ she answered cautiously as she bore them back to the bed. Was he going away to leave her to do all the work? Apparently not.

      ‘Then do leave that for a moment and sit down.’

      ‘Why?’

      ‘Because I think that you are a sensible young woman and we have to get Knotty’s future settled, more or less.’

      Tabitha put her burden on the bed and perched on the bed beside it, wondering why his opinion of her good sense gave her so little pleasure. She crossed her hands tidily in her lap and said tranquilly: ‘I’m listening.’

      He said unexpectedly: ‘You’re a very restful girl. Most women are forever patting their hair or putting on lipstick or peering at themselves in those silly little mirrors they carry around.’

      She made no answer. She felt fairly sure that doing all of these things would make little difference to her appearance, but there seemed little point in telling him so, for it was surely something he could see for himself. She suspected that he was a kind man, wishful of putting her at her ease. He smiled at her and she smiled back, and when he got out his pipe and enquired: ‘Do you mind?’ she shook her head, feeling at ease with him.

      ‘Mr Bow,’ he began, ‘was my science tutor at university. We struck up quite a friendship, for he had known my father when he was alive and had been to our home several times. He was a keen sailor when he was younger—still is, I daresay—and so am I. We did a good deal of sailing together, the pair of us. When I went back to Holland he visited me from time to time, then about five years ago he didn’t answer my letters any more and when I went to his home, no one knew where he was. Each time I came to England I made an effort to find him, but without success, and then, today—there he was.’ He looked round the room. ‘Obviously fallen on bad times, if these few things are all he has left. He’s a proud old man, which probably accounts for his silence and disappearance, and he’ll be difficult to help. When he’s better I think I could persuade him to come home with me for a holiday, but what then?’

      Tabitha hadn’t interrupted at all, but now she said: ‘I don’t know where you live, but if it’s a town of any size, could he not teach— English perhaps if he’s to live in Holland—just enough to make him feel independent? I know he’s eighty, but there’s nothing wrong with his brain.’

      ‘I think you may be right. A holiday first, possibly with one or two others—Bill and Muriel Raynard perhaps. It’s worth going into.’

      He got up. ‘Thank you for your suggestion. I believe I’ll act upon it when the time comes. In the meantime we had better see to this stuff.’

      Tabitha got to her feet. ‘You’ll need something to put the silver and china into. How about the desk drawers—are they locked?’

      He tugged gently. ‘No—if we can get everything into them, I can get someone to collect the desk.’ He roamed around, collecting old newspapers, and started to wrap the silver carefully. Tabitha finished filling the suitcase, closed it, and began on the china. ‘I’ll take the case with me,’ she promised, ‘Mr Bow will want some things later.’ Her eyes lighted on a pile of books in a corner of the room. ‘I’d better take those as well.’

      ‘No,’ said Mr van Beek positively, ‘I will—and the clothes. I’ll put them in the car and drop them off at the hospital as I go past later on. Do you live close by?’

      She thought he had probably had enough of her prosaic company. ‘Oh yes. A few minutes’ walk.’ She added, to make it easier for him: ‘I enjoy walking,’ and when he replied: ‘So do I,’ it wasn’t what she had expected him to say. The appearance of the landlady prevented further conversation and Tabitha sat down on the bed again and listened to Mr van Beek putting the woman in her place with a blandness which most effectively concealed his intention of having his own way, so that she presently went away again, clutching the money he had given her and looking bewildered, for she had gained the impression that he was one of those casual gentlemen who didn’t bother to look at bills, only paid them.

      ‘The shark!’ observed Tabitha as the door closed upon the lady of the house. ‘I wonder how many times she charged Mr Bow for laundry which never went.’ She got to her feet once more and went round the room, opening and shutting cupboards and drawers to make sure nothing had been overlooked while her companion watched her with a little smile. ‘Nothing,’ she remarked unnecessarily and went to the door, waiting for him. He picked up the case and the books and led the way downstairs and out to the car where she said awkwardly: ‘Well, goodbye, Mr van Beek—I hope your evening…’ She got no further.

      ‘Get in,’ he said mildly. ‘I’ve no intention of leaving you to walk home.’

      Tabitha opened her mouth, but before she could utter, he said again: ‘Do get in.’ She did as she was told then, and when he had settled her in the seat beside him, she said: ‘It’s up Thomas Street and left at the traffic lights, straight on past the station, and then the first turning on the left.’

      They talked only commonplaces during the short drive and when he drew up outside her flat she prepared to get out immediately, longing to ask him in but deciding against it because he might probably accept out of politeness. He leaned across her and opened the door and said casually:

      ‘It’s a full round tomorrow, so I’m told—we shall see each other then. Thank you for your help.’

      She got out before she answered him. ‘Yes—I’m on for the rounds. I—I was glad to help, although you made it all very easy.’ She smiled, feeling a little shy, and was relieved when Meg flung the house door open and called in her soft voice: ‘There you are, Miss Tabby, late again!’ Which remark made it easy for Tabitha to say: ‘Well, I must go—good night, sir.’ She stood back and he closed the car door, lifted a hand in salute and eased the big car slowly forward and away. She watched it until a bend in the road hid it from sight, then went indoors to answer Meg’s questions.

      Mr van Beek arrived dead on time for his ward round, which Tabitha found a refreshing change from Mr Raynard, who had a disconcerting habit of turning up either much too early or so late that the whole ward routine was thrown out of gear. She met the party at the door, looking calm and unruffled and very neat, so that no one looking at her would have believed her if she had recounted just how much work she had already got through, and certainly no one thought to ask; Mr van Beek gave her a pleasant and impersonal good morning and Mr Steele and Tommy Bates, the houseman, had both said ‘Hullo, Tabby,’ which was what they always said. In the ward they would be careful to address her as Sister for the benefit of the patients, which was a waste of time anyway, for she was aware that they all called her Tabby behind her back. As George Steele had once remarked, Tabby was such a cosy name. Tabby had shuddered at his words, glimpsing a perpetual picture of herself getting cosier and cosier over the years until someone, some day, would prefix the Tabby with the word old.

      This morning, however, there was no fear of that—indeed, she looked a great deal younger than her twenty-five years, for although her hair was still screwed ruthlessly into its severe bun, there was a pinkness in her cheeks which gave her eyes an added sparkle, although her greeting was sedate enough. She had already done her morning round, and primed with her mental list of plasters due for changing, extensions that needed adjusting, pains for investigation