Betty Neels - An Innocent Bride

‘This is nonsense,’ she told Katrina. ‘I’m sure there is no need for Professor Glenville to see me again. I feel perfectly well except for this tiredness, and that’s to be expected when you are as old as I am.’

‘You’re only seventy-something,’Katrina reminded her. ‘I dare say this will be the last time, just to check that everything is going according to plan.’

She sat quietly and wondered if she would see the professor. It seemed unlikely, for it wasn’t a social call and there were rows of patients for him to see. Her aunt was one of many, and she wondered again just how eminent he was. What did he do in his free time? He had hinted that he might marry, so he would spend his evenings with whoever it was he intended to marry. Did they go dancing, she wondered, or dine at some marvellous restaurant? Or did she go home with him and spend the evening eating Mrs Peach’s delicious dinners?

A nurse called her aunt’s name and Katrina watched her disappear down the short corridor lined with doors. The professor’s room was the nearest. She glanced at her watch. They had been waiting for more than half an hour and her aunt would be fifteen minutes or so. If they were to go to the shops they would have to catch a later train.

Aunt Thirza came back, some twenty minutes later, her back poker-straight, looking annoyed. She marched out with Katrina hurrying to keep up with her.

Outside, on the pavement of the busy street, Katrina said, ‘What has he told you,Aunt, something to upset you?’

Her heart gave a sickening thump. Surely her aunt hadn’t asked an outright question, demanded the truth?

‘He says I must come here again in three weeks’time. It seems the anaemia isn’t responding to treatment. It sometimes happens, he told me, and I must have patience. It may take a little longer than he had hoped. I have to get more pills from Dr Peters.’She smiled suddenly. ‘Last time I was here we mentioned the garden, and he said he had noticed that there was a small moss rose under the window, not doing too well. He has to come our way on Sunday and he asked if I would accept a rose bush—he has several in his garden and will need to discard a few. He’ll come for coffee.’

‘How kind,’ said Katrina, wondering just why he was doing that, and planning to bake a batch of her almond biscuits which sold so well at village functions. The news wasn’t good, but hopefully she would get the chance to ask him what exactly was happening. Surely there was something, some treatment—a blood transfusion—to halt her aunt’s illness.

‘Well, don’t look so glum,’said Aunt Thirza, once more her brisk self. ‘He’s rather nice. Now, let’s get a bus to Oxford Street.’

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