Betty Neels - Not Once But Twice

They had gone inside and been given a little table at the back of the little restaurant, and when Christina put her hands on the table, Adam had covered them with his own so that all the questions she was going to ask him flew out of her head. All the same, she didn’t allow herself to get carried away, although her heart was thundering in her ears. After a moment she gently withdrew her hands and looked around her. The place was a lot nicer inside than it was outside, she decided, and the waiter who served them was quick and attentive. She chose a fish salad and a fresh fruit salad and drank the wine she was offered without knowing what it was.

Adam didn’t talk about the possibility of her getting a job, only discussed in a charming if vague fashion the various places he intended to take her to once she was in Holland. She was too sensible to believe quite all he said, although she would have liked to, but even if they only did half the things he was enthusing about, the future seemed to her to be an enchantment not to be missed. The time slid away too quickly and it was Adam who looked at his watch and said: ‘Oh, lord—it’s time we went.’

She put down her coffee cup in an unflurried manner. ‘Very well. I’m going to powder my nose.’

‘Must you?’ He sounded irritable, but at her look of surprise he said: ‘Sorry—I didn’t mean to snap, but don’t be too long, will you?’

The wine had flushed her cheeks a little, but otherwise she looked as well groomed as when she had left home that morning. She poked at her hair, put on more lipstick and rejoined Adam.

Dr Duert ter Brandt was standing on the edge of the pavement outside, his back to the restaurant. It was a very large back and very straight in its beautifully tailored jacket. He must have had eyes at the back of his head, for he turned round before they reached him, wished her a friendly good afternoon, said something in a soft voice to Adam and lifted his hand at a passing taxi. Once more barely given time to say more than goodbye to Adam, Christina found herself sitting back beside Dr ter Brandt.

‘I thought that we might walk in Green Park,’ his voice was quiet and slow after Adam’s quick, accented English. ‘You understand that there are a number of questions I must ask you? And if we are both satisfied I shall require references.’

She said yes a little breathlessly; funny to think that only a few days ago she had been contemplating a dull future in a bedsitter. But she hadn’t got the job yet.

It was pleasant in the park; they strolled through its comparative peace while the doctor asked questions. A great many questions, thought Christina, answering them in her sensible manner, giving him facts and taking care not to boast or pretend about anything.

‘And surgery?’ he wanted to know.

‘Not for the last two years, I’m afraid. I had the Women’s Surgical Ward for two years before I got my present post, and before that I was in Casualty and the Accident Room, a year as Second Sister and previous to that about a year as a staff nurse.’

‘You like accident work?’

‘Yes, very much. I should have liked to have stayed on there, but I was advised that I should get all-round experience. I haven’t been at St Athud’s all the time, you know. I came to London when my parents died and took the job I have got now. Before then I was living near Yeovil. I worked at the hospital there, but I trained at Bart’s.’

They had stopped to watch an old man feeding the birds and presently Dr ter Brandt said: ‘The post I have to offer you is that of Third Sister in the Accident Department at the Theofilus Hospital. We operate three shifts in the twenty-four hours, and you would be expected to work each shift in turn. You would have two days off each week, six weeks’ holiday in the year and for the first few months at least, attend classes in Dutch. You may live in the hospital if you wish or rent rooms or a flat close by.’ He mentioned a salary which, changed into English money, seemed generous.

‘But perhaps the cost of living is higher?’ asked Christina, sensibly.

‘About the same, I think.’

She said composedly: ‘I may apply for the post?’

‘Yes. I have an application form with me, which we will fill in presently. The post is vacant now, but of course you will have to resign—a month, I take it?’

The old man had gone and so had the birds. A cool wind rustled the trees around them and a few leaves fluttered on to the grass. Christina said in her sensible way: ‘I have more than two weeks’ holiday due to me, which means that I can leave in about ten days’ time.’

‘That would suit us very well.’ He paused and added thoughtfully: ‘But of course you would like to stay here until your brother’s marriage?’

‘No.’ Her voice was level and quiet. ‘That doesn’t matter. I should explain that my brother and I are very fond of each other and we get on very well. I’m delighted that he’s marrying, but his fiancée and I—well, we don’t get on very well. I think it might be easier for all of us if I’m not at the wedding.’ She added slowly, ‘We haven’t quarrelled or anything like that, but George Henry feels a bit mean because I’m having to find somewhere else to live and it would be a good thing if I’m not there to remind him…’

The doctor’s smile was kind. ‘I’m sorry, but thank you for telling me; I’m sure it’s a sensible solution. These unfortunate occasions do arise, but I’ve found that time does much to improve them.’

‘That’s what I thought. By the time I get back to England it will be forgotten.’ They had been strolling along, but now she stopped. ‘I’ve taken up your afternoon, Dr ter Brandt. If there’s nothing more I need to know, I’ll say goodbye. I’m sure I can manage the form and I’ll get the references and send them on to you.’

For answer he took her arm. ‘A cup of tea, I think, and we can fill in the form at the same time.’

He walked her back across the park and into Piccadilly, crossed the street and ushered her through the splendid entrance of the Ritz. ‘Tea here?’ she asked uncertainly.

‘It’s the nicest place I know of for tea,’ he told her as they were led to a table by the window.

Christina had gone past the hotel many times since she had been in London, but never been inside. It was splendid and elegant and everything she had imagined it would be, and she was glad that she was wearing the grey suit; there wasn’t a pair of denims in sight, the atmosphere was peaceful and restful, and having taken it all in she said forthrightly: ‘This is delightful. I’ve often wondered what it was like inside, and now I know.’

And when the tea came she poured it with a dignified self-assurance which gave the lie to Adam’s theory that she might feel ill at ease in such plushy surroundings. The doctor, plying her with wafer-thin cucumber sandwiches, little iced cakes and tiny meringues, looked at her with approval. She was no fool, this rather plain girl with the lovely eyes; she had a delightful voice and nice manners and a sensible head on her shoulders. And he liked the way she dressed too. She had a good figure and small, well kept hands. After a time, he mused, one forgot her lack of looks and probably, given enough incentive, she could improve on those.

He had an uneasy feeling that Adam was going to provide that incentive, and although, as he had said before, she seemed capable of looking after herself, she was too honest and nice a girl to be hurt. Of course, Adam might be serious about her; she was so very different from the usual kind of girl he fell in love with, it might be possible. Time would tell.

He asked casually: ‘Are you meeting Adam this evening, Christina?’

She shook her head. ‘No, he’s got a lecture and he had to catch up on something he missed—and tomorrow he has a study day at Birmingham.’