Betty Neels: Not Once But Twice

‘Oh, do that tomorrow, will you?’ and at her look of surprise, ‘I’ve recommended you for the post and I’m the director of the hospital, so the job’s yours, Christina. Let me know when you can come and I’ll arrange to have you met. You’ll need a passport, of course; I’ll see about your work permit. Have you enough money for your fare or would you like an advance?’

‘I’ve enough, thank you.’

‘Good—well, we’ll see how you get on, shall we? If at the end of a month you’re not happy, let me know.’

‘And if I don’t suit?’ she prompted.

‘Then I shall let you know.’

She wouldn’t like that to happen. He seemed such an easygoing man, but she suspected that upon occasion he could be icy-tempered, venting his rage in a cold voice on whoever had been hapless enough to incur his displeasure. Christina hoped most sincerely that she would never be unlucky enough to do that, and anyway, she wouldn’t see much of him once she was there. She didn’t know much about hospital directors, but she hardly thought he would do anything else but administrative work.

There didn’t seem much more to say after that. She finished her coffee, invented a meeting with one of the Sisters from the hospital, wished him a pleasant journey back home, thanked him for her delightful lunch and assured him that she really had to go. She wasn’t surprised when he at once asked for the bill, paid it and ushered her out of the restaurant; indeed, she was a little worried as to whether she had lingered too long, which made her goodbyes rather brisk.

‘I’ll get you a taxi,’ offered the doctor, and when she said no, thank you, she would walk as it was close by, and he asked where, his eyes gleamed with amusement when she said wildly: ‘Oh, Piccadilly Circus,’ which wasn’t close by at all.

He stood on the pavement and watched her walk briskly to the corner and into Davies Street, on her way to the crowds and bustle of Oxford Street. He very much doubted if she was going to meet anyone.

Christina got on a bus when she reached Oxford Street and went home; it was mid-afternoon, George Henry was out on his afternoon visits and she had the house to herself. She sat down at the dining room table and made a list of all the things she had to do within the next few days, then she wrote a letter of resignation ready to hand in in the morning, made a cup of tea, washed her hair and then sat down again and allowed herself to indulge in daydreams just a little. Adam cropped up in all of them.

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