Uncertain Summer. Бетти Нилс

it together again.’

      She laughed then. ‘How frightfully wasteful! Are you all right here—comfortable?’

      A silly remark, she chided herself, but she hadn’t been able to think of anything else to say in her delight at seeing him.

      ‘Very comfortable,’ he told her, ‘and now you’re here, perfectly all right.’ He smiled at her. ‘Will a Dubonnet suit you, or would you rather have a gin and lime?’

      ‘Dubonnet, thank you. When are you going home?’

      ‘On Saturday—Gijs will come over for me. I’ll be back in a few weeks, though, to collect the new car.’ His hand covered hers briefly where it lay on the table. ‘Serena, will you come over to Holland—oh, not now—in a few weeks. I want you to meet my mother.’

      She blinked her long lashes, her eyes enormous with surprise. ‘But why—I haven’t any holiday due.’

      ‘Who spoke of holidays? You can resign or whatever it is you do, can’t you?’

      ‘But I shall want to go back…’

      ‘Now that’s something we’re going to talk about.’ He smiled as he spoke and her own mouth curved in response.

      She ate her dinner in a happy daze, saying very little, not quite sure that it was really all happening, until he asked suddenly: ‘Why do you wear that ring? It’s a cheap thing. I’ll give you a ring to suit your beautiful finger—diamonds, I think.’

      Serena felt affronted and a little hurt, but all the same she explained without showing it that it was her great-grandmother’s and that she treasured it. ‘And I don’t like diamonds,’ she added quietly.

      Her words had the effect of amusing him very much. ‘My sweet gipsy, you can’t mean that—all girls like diamonds.’

      Serena took a mouthful of crême brulée and said, smiling a little, because it was impossible to be even faintly annoyed with him: ‘Well, here’s one girl who doesn’t.’

      ‘And that’s something else we’ll talk about later,’ he said lightly. ‘When are you free tomorrow?’

      She told him happily. ‘And Saturday?’ She told him that too. ‘I’m on at ten for the rest of the day.’

      ‘Good lord, why?’

      She explained about weekends and was gratifyingly flattered when he observed: ‘Just my luck—if it had been last weekend, we could have spent it together.’

      ‘Not very well,’ Serena, being a parson’s daughter, saw no hidden meanings in this remark, ‘for you can’t drive and I haven’t got a car, you know, and the train journey would have tired you out.’

      She spoke happily because it had made everything seem more real because he had taken it for granted that he would have spent the weekend at her home. She certainly didn’t notice the hastily suppressed astonishment in his voice when he answered her.

      They talked about other things then, and it was only when she was wishing him goodbye, with the promise to lunch with him on the next day, that he said:

      ‘You’re quite a girl, Serena—full of surprises, too.’ He kissed her lightly on the cheek and added: ‘Tomorrow.’

      She went to bed in a haze of dreams, all of them with happy endings, and none of them, she realized when she woke in the morning, capable of standing up to a searching scrutiny. She decided rebelliously that she wasn’t going to be searching anyway. She dressed with care in the white jacket and skirt and decided against a hat.

      They had almost finished their early lunch when Laurens said: ‘I shan’t see you tomorrow then, my sweet. I shall miss you—will you miss me?’

      Serena had never been encouraged to be anything but honest. ‘Yes, of course,’ she answered readily ‘very much. But you’re coming back—you said…’

      He laughed a little. ‘Oh, yes, I’m coming back, and next time when I go you’re coming with me, remember?’

      ‘Well, yes,’ she stammered a little, ‘but I wasn’t sure if you meant it.’

      He put his head on one side. ‘Then you must be sure. I shall ring you up when I get back, then you will give in your notice to your so good Matron and pack your bags and come to my home and learn something of Holland.’

      ‘Oh,’ said Serena, her heart was pattering along at a great rate, ‘are you—that is, is this…’

      ‘It seems so. How else am I to get you, my beautiful gipsy?’

      They said goodbye soon after that and when he kissed her she returned his kiss with a happy warmth even though she couldn’t bear the thought of not seeing him for several weeks.

      It was fortunate that when she got on duty there was a dearth of patients; it hadn’t been so quiet for weeks. Serena sat in her office, making out the off duty and requisition forms and holiday lists and all the while her head spun with a delightful dreamlike speed, littered with a host of ideas, all of which she was far too excited to go into. It was like dipping into a box of unexpected treasure, and some of her happiness showed on her face so that her friends, noticing it, exchanged meaningful glances amongst themselves.

      She had thought that she wouldn’t sleep that night, but she did, and dreamlessly too, and she was glad to have had a good night’s rest when she went on duty in the morning, for the Accident Room was going at full pressure. About half past eleven there was a lull, however, so she went along to her office and drank her coffee and thought about Laurens; she had forgotten to ask him at what time he was going; perhaps he was already on his way… The wistful thought was interrupted by one of the nurses with the news that there was a flasher coming in.

      Only one ambulance man came in, carrying a very small bundle in a blanket. As soon as he saw her he said, ‘Glad you’re on, Sister. I got a battered baby here. Proper knocked about, she is…’

      Serena forget all about Laurens then. She whisked into the nearest cubicle, saying: ‘Here, Jones, any idea what happened?’ She was already unwrapping the blanket from the small stiff form and winced when she saw the little bruised body. Without pausing in her task she said: ‘Nurse, telephone Mr Travers, please—he’s on duty, isn’t he? Ask him to come at once—tell him it’s a battered baby.’

      She had her scissors out now and was cutting the odds and ends of grubby clothing from the baby’s body. ‘Well, Jones?’

      ‘Neighbours,’ he began. ‘They heard a bit of a bust-up like, and went to fetch the police—the coppers took the baby’s dad off with them, the mum too. There’ll be a copper round to inquire. Hit her with a belt, they said.’

      ‘With a buckle on the end of it, Jones. The brute—I’d like to get my hands on him!’ Which, considering she was five foot three and small with it, was an absurd thing to say, although the ambulance man knew what she meant.

      ‘Me, too,’ he said soberly. ‘Shall I give the particulars to nurse, Sister?’

      ‘Yes, please.’ She was sponging, with infinite care, the abrasions and cuts, hoping she would be able to complete the cleaning process before the baby became conscious again.

      Bill was beside her and as she wiped the last of the superficial dirt away, bent over the baby. ‘Alive, anyway,’ he observed, and spoke to someone behind her—someone she hadn’t known was there and who came round to the other side of the examination table as Bill spoke. Doctor Gijs van Amstel. ‘You don’t mind, Serena,’ Bill was intent on the baby, ‘if Doctor van Amstel has a look? He’s by way of being an authority on this sort of thing and he happened to be here…’

      Serena nodded, staring at the calm face of the man opposite her, and then went a bright pink because if he was here, surely Laurens would be with him. She dismissed the idea at once because it was hardly the time to let her thoughts stray. She watched the large, quiet man bend over the