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had laid the table and made a few rather inadequate preparations for supper. He followed her into the kitchen while she cooked it, something he seldom did, so that she asked: ‘Aren’t you going out? You usually do on your half day—did Wendy stand you up?’
Wendy was the current young lady of his fancy; she was a physiotherapist whom no one liked much because she gave herself airs, but Beth had suffered an unending catalogue of her perfections with sisterly patience, knowing that within a week or two her brother’s eye would have been caught by some other girl. They were all alike, the young doctors and students, and no one took them seriously, although a few fell permanently in love and got engaged or even married. But William would be too busy for the next year or so to think about marrying; he had only just got started on his career and at the end of his six months with Professor MacDonald’s firm he would be joining the medical side if they would have him, and after that it would be a year—two years, at least, before he could apply for a post as registrar. She dished up their meal and carried it through to the sitting-room while he explained that Wendy hadn’t stood him up; he had decided to stay home because he wanted to talk to her.
‘Me?’ exclaimed Beth, much astonished at this brotherly attention. ‘Whatever for? I haven’t any money till payday…’
William frowned. ‘It’s not that,’ he said impatiently. ‘You’ve got a week’s holiday starting on Sunday, haven’t you, Beth?’ He sounded uneasy all at once.
She began her supper and then paused to pour their coffee. ‘Yes—fancy you remembering that. But it’s only Tuesday you know, and I’m not going anywhere. Do you want the flat to yourself or something?’
‘Don’t be dim. The thing is, if you’ve nothing to do I know of someone who wants to borrow you…’
‘Borrow me? Whatever for? Anyway, I’m on holiday—is it one of those agencies?’
‘No, as a matter of fact, it’s Professor van Zeust. You had his sister in theatre today, didn’t you? Well, he’s been left high and dry with her four children; they’re staying with him. He mentioned it to old Mac, and he knew—lord knows how—that you had a holiday coming up, and he suggested that you might step into the breach—just for a week, you know, and look after them. You’d be paid.’
Beth’s bosom swelled with indignation. ‘Well, whatever next—why me? Aren’t there agencies for nannies and mothers’ helps? Why can’t he go to one of them? I’ve no intention…’
She caught William’s eye and something in it made her say: ‘You wretch—you said I would!’ She drew a deep breath, her eyes very purple, but before she could speak he said hastily:
‘Oh, be a sport, Beth—after all, you’re not doing anything and it might be fun.’
‘Fun?’ Her voice was shrill with annoyance. ‘Have you ever looked after four children? They’re not even English!’ She paused and added triumphantly: ‘So I can’t.’
‘They’ve had an English nanny for years. I don’t know much about it, but I believe they live somewhere behind Harrods—quite super, and you’re bound to get heaps of free time.’ He looked at her anxiously. ‘It’s only for a week.’
She stared at him across the table. ‘And supposing I should decide to do it, who is going to tell me what and when and where?’
He brightened. ‘Professor van Zeust said he’d make a point of seeing you tomorrow—there’s another kidney transplant, isn’t there? I shall be in theatre too,’ he paused to contemplate this pleasure, then went on: ‘There’s sure to be an opportunity to talk about it. I say, Beth, it would be jolly decent of you if you would, it’d do me a good turn—I mean, they’re more likely to remember me later on if there was the chance of a registrar’s job.’
Beth got up and started to collect the dishes. ‘Well, dear, I’m not going to say yes now, but I do promise to have an open mind if he says anything to me about it tomorrow, though probably he’ll have got someone else by then.’
But while she washed up she found herself hoping that the professor wouldn’t be able to find anyone else, even though before she went to bed she told William firmly that she hadn’t made up her mind…all the same, when she got into bed, she stayed awake quite a long while thinking about him.
CHAPTER TWO
BETH was on duty at eight o’clock the following morning and within a very short time the theatre was in full swing. She had fetched the kidney transplant case—a young girl in her teens—handed her over and gone again to collect the first of a long list of cases for the other theatres. The kidney case lasted a long time; it was early afternoon before she received the girl in the Recovery Room and although Professor van Zeust came with his colleague to see her, he had nothing to say other than a few quiet directions. They went away presently and later, after Beth had taken her case to ICU, an emergency came in and she was kept busy until some time after she was due off duty. Of the professor there was no sign, and she left the hospital feeling a bit let down; he might at least have given her the chance of refusing the job which he had so surprisingly suggested she might take. True, there had been no time to say anything at all for most of the day, but he could have left a message. Probably he had found someone else after all and forgotten about the whole thing.
She arrived at the flat rather cross, and over a cup of tea decided that nothing would persuade her to take the job now, even if he begged her to, and as this was highly unlikely she stopped thinking about it, drained the teapot, ate a piece of toast left over from breakfast, and fell to washing the smalls before getting the supper. William would be home shortly, before going back to St Elmer’s at ten o’clock to be on call for twenty-four hours, and he would be hungry, as usual. It was unfortunate that the kitty was at a low ebb, but it always was just before pay day. She settled on a macaroni cheese, made it rather impatiently and went to her room to tidy herself.
The flat, the top floor of a Victorian house which had seen better days, was cramped and a bit dark and her room was small and cramped too, but she rather liked the view over the chimneypots; it was better than the houses opposite and the sky gave her a feeling of space. She wasted a few minutes now, looking out and thinking about Chifney, where there were only trees and fields, and the chimney-pots, when visible, fitted cosily into the scenery around them. Her room was nicely furnished, though, with bits and pieces her stepbrother had allowed them to take with them when they had left home, and she kept the flat sparklingly clean and somehow managed to have flowers in it.
She brushed her hair and tied it back, so that it hung in a thick shower down her back, re-did her face without much enthusiasm, not seeing her lovely eyes and splendid hair, only the ordinariness of her features, then twitched and pulled her brown tweed skirt and sweater into place. She was heartily sick of them both, but William needed shoes again and the money he had been saving for them he had spent, naturally enough, he conceded, on a wildly expensive waistcoat; she would have to help him out and put off buying a new outfit for herself for just a little longer.
She wandered back to the sitting room, shook up a few cushions and then pottered into the kitchen to see how the macaroni cheese was coming along. When the front door bell rang she banged the oven door shut with a touch of irritation and went to answer it, with a rather cross: ‘You’ve forgotten your key again…’
Only it wasn’t William, it was Professor van Zeust, looming over her in the narrow doorway. She peered round him as far as she could, and quite forgetful of her manners, demanded: ‘Where’s William?’
His bland: ‘Good evening, Miss Partridge,’ reminded her of them.
‘Oh, good evening, Professor. I’m sorry—I didn’t mean to be rude—I thought you were William. Have you come to see him? He’s late, I’m afraid, but if you would like to come in and wait?’
He smiled down at her. ‘William has had to fill in for the Casualty Officer. He asked me to tell you that he won’t be home tonight.’
‘Oh.’ She stood uncertainly. ‘Then why—that