Betty Neels - The Quiet Professor

‘I can get a weekend,’ he pointed out. ‘Heaven knows I’m due for one.’

‘That will be marvellous. Can we go home on Saturday morning and stay until Sunday evening?’

He saw her back to the flat and stayed for ten minutes or so. ‘Not much of a place, is it?’ he pointed out, and she tried not to mind that. She had the new curtains up and cushions to match, fresh flowers and her books on the bookshelves. Even the cat Meredith looked glossy and well fed. A sensible girl, she understood that to a man the flat appeared to lack the comfort and convenience of home, and she contented herself by telling him that she was very happy with it. ‘If I want to go to bed early I can,’ she explained. ‘At the nurses’ home there is always a good deal of noise and people popping in and out and playing their cassettes. You’d be surprised how quiet this street is.’

He laughed and kissed her. ‘Take care; you’ll be turning into a regular old maid unless you look out!’

‘That’s easily remedied. We could get married.’ She didn’t know why she had said that and she regretted it when she saw his frown.

‘Time enough to talk about that when I’ve finished here and applied for another post,’ he told her, and, because he saw that she was feeling awkward, added another kiss to the one that he had already given her.

Megan, left alone, turned the divan into a bed, put on a kettle for a cup of tea and brushed Meredith’s coat. He was filling out nicely and since his accident had prudently stayed in the back yard. He scoffed the saucer of milk she offered him now and composed himself for sleep before the fire, although the minute she turned out the light and got into bed he would creep stealthily on to the end of it and stay there all night.

It was several days later that she saw the professor again. She was going off duty after an exceptionally busy day and she was tired and cross and a little untidy. He and Mr Bright were standing in the entrance hall, deep in some discussion; Mr Bright looked up and called a cheerful, ‘Goodnight, Sister Rodner,’ and the professor looked at her too, rather as though he couldn’t remember where he had met her before, and gave a brief, abstracted nod. She went on her way, feeling put out; he had, after all, eaten a hearty supper at her invitation. She corrected that—his invitation; she hadn’t expected that it would lead to a closer relationship, he wasn’t close to anyone as far as she knew, but it merited a civil greeting.

She aired her views to Meredith as she got her supper. ‘Very rude,’ she told him as she stooped to set a saucer of food before him. ‘But perhaps he’s feeling homesick if he’s just back from Holland.’

She and Oscar were to go to her home at the weekend; she had seen him that morning and he had been eager to go. His enthusiasm had astonished and pleased her, for she knew what a lot of arranging had to be done before he could consider himself free for more than a day at a time. They could leave on Friday evening, he had suggested, and be there by ten o’clock, if that wasn’t too late for her parents, and she had agreed happily. Tomorrow she would have to find time to buy a cat basket. Meredith had stopped roaming the streets now that he had a good home but left on his own he might stray and she had got fond of him. A little fresh country air would do him good.

Friday began badly; she was entering the hospital when she saw the professor getting out of his car, near enough for them to have exchanged good-mornings, but she was still annoyed with him and swept through the door as though there was no one to be seen for miles around her. He followed her in an elegant, leisurely fashion, smiling a little. He didn’t smile a great deal and the head porter gave him a surprised look and observed to one of his underlings that Professor van Belfeld didn’t seem quite himself. ‘Something must ’ave shook ’im up,’ he added weightedly.

On the ward Megan found that the night had gone badly. A patient had fallen out of bed; no one’s fault but there needed to be a special report sent in, the medical houseman sent for to examine the lady and the nurses to reassure. It was a bad start to the day, although the patient, a stout lady who had rolled out of bed when she had turned over, had had no injury. Megan, coping with Authority, who wanted to know all about it, found her temper, usually calm, fraying badly. It frayed even more when Mr Bright, due for a ward-round, arrived half an hour late, so that dinners had to be kept hot while he went from bed to bed, taking his time. You would have thought, reflected Megan, seething with impatience, that the smell of fish, mingled with stewed beef and carrots, would help to remind him that the patients had to eat…

Oscar had said that he would be ready to leave by six o’clock and she was hard put to it to get off duty at her usual time. She didn’t go to her dinner, but made do with a sandwich and a cup of tea in her office, working through the afternoon so that when Jenny came on duty she was able to leave with an easy mind, hurry to the flat, change, stuff an indignant Meredith into his basket and collect her overnight bag before Oscar came to collect her.

Her mood improved when she saw him; he looked reassuringly ordinary, and obviously he was delighted at the idea of a weekend away from the hospital too. He stowed the cat on the back seat, put her bag in the boot and got in beside her, kissed her briefly and drove off.

‘We should get there well before ten o’clock,’ he told her. ‘Once we can get out of London we’ll use the motorway this time.’ He turned to smile at her. ‘It’s a lovely evening too.’

She agreed, feeling better already. ‘Is there anything special you want to do? There are some marvellous walks if you feel like it…’

‘Let’s see how we feel,’ he said easily. ‘Your family might have some ideas.’ He added, ‘You look tired; have you had a bad day?’

That was the nice thing about him, she thought—he always remembered that she worked as well as he and took an interest in her days. ‘Well, not bad exactly, just lots of small things going wrong. We’d got straightened out by the time I went off duty and Jenny’s very capable.’

They talked shop for some time—it relieved the tedium of their slow progress during the rush-hour—but presently when they were clear of the suburbs they fell silent. There’s no need to talk, thought Megan; we know each other well enough for there to be no need to make conversation. She felt comfortable with him. The thought flashed through her mind that they were perhaps too comfortable; surely she should feel rather more than that when they were together? It left her uneasy and presently she voiced her doubts.

‘Oscar, do you feel excited when I’m with you?’ That didn’t sound quite right and she tried again. ‘Don’t laugh—I really want to know.’

They were on the motorway and it was comparatively free of traffic so that he was able to answer her without distraction.

‘Megan, dear, of course I won’t laugh, and I do understand what you mean. My feeling for you is—how shall I put it?—deep and sincere, but I believe I am not a man to get excited, as you put it. I am happy and content and I believe that we shall settle down very well together.’ He glanced at her smiling. ‘Does that answer your question?’

She wanted to tell him that it didn’t but instead she told him that it did. Perhaps there was no such thing as the kind of romance one read about in books. She twiddled the ring on her finger and told herself that she was happy.

Her mother and father and Melanie were waiting for them when they arrived. They had made good time and since it wasn’t yet ten o’clock they had waited supper for them and they sat round the table talking, comfortably aware that the next day was Saturday and there was no hurry to go to work in the morning. Megan, sitting beside Oscar, was pleased to see that he got on so well with Melanie. She smiled at her sister across the table; she had mothered her and shielded her as a child and she loved her dearly. It was a delight to see her talking and laughing so easily with him.