Betty Neels - No Need to Say Goodbye

It was nice to find breakfast ready and waiting when she got to Bick Street; her sisters and brother clustered round as she ate it, and only when she had finished did Zoë say, ‘We knew you wouldn’t mind, Louise—Dr van der Linden met me when I was out with Dusty yesterday evening—at least, he was driving home, I suppose, and came down this street… He stopped and asked if we wanted a lift tomorrow and I said yes.’ She paused to look at Louise’s face. ‘You don’t mind? It seemed such a splendid chance; we could start on the garden and he said we could have lunch at his house and take Dusty, so you’d have a nice long day to yourself. He’ll bring us back this evening.’

Louise squashed a feeling of self-pity welling up in a threatening manner; it was kind of the doctor, and moreover it rather pointed to the fact that he had his eye on Zoë. Besides, if they went there for lunch they would soon know if he was married, in which case, the quicker he took his eyes off her, the better. In the meanwhile there was safety in numbers.

She said with an instant willingness that she didn’t quite feel, ‘What a splendid notion, my dears. Do remember to take Dusty’s food with you and his bowl; he’ll be quite happy in the garden. Christine, if you finished your curtains yesterday evening, will you take them with you and hang them? There is a spade in the little garden shed at the end of the garden, but perhaps Dr van der Linden wouldn’t mind you taking the garden fork—you could leave it there. Take a bottle of milk—you might want tea.’ She saw their relief as she yawned and declared, ‘Must say, a long sleep will be nice…’

‘Then you don’t mind—truly not?’ asked Mike.

‘Not one bit. I’ve had a rotten night—all go—and I can think of nothing nicer than a bath and bed. Take a key with you just in case I’m gone before you get back.’ Something made her add, ‘I told Night Sister on the surgical wards that I would cover for her for the first half hour—she may be late on duty.’

Which wasn’t true, but she had a reluctance to meet Dr van der Linden, although she wasn’t quite sure why. Urged by the other three, she went upstairs to her room and got ready for bed but, although she was so tired, she was still awake when she heard the doctor’s car stop and then the subdued, cheerful murmur of voices and Dusty’s hastily suppressed barks. They would have a lovely day, she told herself with resolute cheerfulness. ‘And I do hope he’s not married,’ she murmured as she dozed off.

IT WASN’T until the following morning when she reached Bick Street after another night of non-stop work that she had the details of the outing to Much Hadham, for she had prudently left some time before the working party would return. She hadn’t seen Dr van der Linden, either, although he had been in the hospital to check on several very ill patients, but she had been busy at the time in the accident room and he had sent a message to say that he would leave instructions with the night nurse on duty and Ted Giles would get in touch with her as soon as she was free.

She found her brother and sisters in a high state of excitement; they had had a delightful day, they chorused, at the same time assuring her that they had worked like Trojans. Everything that needed to be done had been done, Zoë assured her, plying her with tea and toast, ‘And we went to Aldo’s house…’

‘Aldo?’

Zoë laughed a little. ‘That’s his name, Dr van der Linden. He said it made him feel old when we called him doctor all the time. Well, it’s at the other end of the village—his house—quite beautiful, Louise, and large with a huge garden at the back. It’s old, eighteenth century, one of those with chequered brickwork, and inside it’s furnished with the loveliest antiques. We only went downstairs, of course, but the hall is vast and there is a staircase, stone and wrought iron—there is a carpet on it, of course. We had a heavenly lunch…’ She was interrupted here by Mike and Christine and a chorus of praise in which grilled mushrooms in a wine sauce, roast chicken and gooseberry tart with lashings of cream, and unlimited lemonade—the genuine kind, they explained—jostled in mouth-watering fashion.

Zoë went on just as though there hadn’t been an interruption. ‘And after lunch we went round the garden; it’s beautiful, Louise, you have no idea…’

Louise said equably that no, she hadn’t, and reflected silently that it seemed unlikely that she ever would, although… She allowed her thoughts to stray for a moment; if Dr van der Linden and Zoë should marry, she might be given the chance. And that reminded her.

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