Книга - Small Slice of Summer

Small Slice of Summer
Betty Neels


Mills & Boon presents the complete Betty Neels collection. Timeless tales of heart-warming romance by one of the world’s best-loved romance authors. Fate stepped in…to play cupid.Letitia Marsden had decided that men were not to be trusted. Then she met Doctor Jason Mourik van Nie, and he changed her mind. Learning to trust again wasn’t easy for either of them. This time, Letitia vowed, there would be a happy ending.Then Jason got the wrong idea about one of her male friends. Luckily, fate wasn’t going to let a simple misapprehension stand in the way of true love.









“Did you enjoy your nap?” he asked on a laugh.


Letitia had tried so hard to stay awake; not to miss a moment of his company. She said, her voice stiff with annoyance at herself, “I’m so very sorry. I tried to stay awake….” She stopped, aware that she hadn’t put it very well, and he laughed again.

“Would you have gone to sleep if Karel had been driving?” he asked.

“No, for he would never have given me the chance—you should have given me a poke.”

She wondered why he sighed as he put his arms around her. “This instead,” he said, and kissed her.

She stared up at him, her emotions churning around inside her so that she really had no sense at all. Then she stretched on tiptoe and kissed him back.

But when he did nothing about it, Letitia said in a hopeless voice, “Oh, Jason, goodbye,” and fled through the door and across the entrance hall.

She was appalled at her behavior and at the strength of her feelings when he had kissed her, but then no one had ever kissed her like that before….




About the Author


Romance readers around the world were sad to note the passing of BETTY NEELS in June 2001. Her career spanned thirty years, and she continued to write into her ninetieth year. To her millions of fans, Betty epitomized the romance writer, and yet she began writing almost by accident. She had retired from nursing, but her inquiring mind still sought stimulation. Her new career was born when she heard a lady in her local library bemoaning the lack of good romance novels. Betty’s first book, Sister Peters in Amsterdam, was published in 1969, and she eventually completed 134 books. Her novels offer a reassuring warmth that was very much a part of her own personality. She was a wonderful writer, and she will be greatly missed. Her spirit and genuine talent will live on in all her stories.




Small Slice of Summer

Betty Neels









www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)




CONTENTS


CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE




CHAPTER ONE


BIG BEN struck midday, and the sound, though muffled by the roar of London’s traffic, struck clearly enough on Letitia Marsden’s ear, causing her to put down the recovery tray she had been checking and look expectantly towards the doors separating theatre from the recovery room. Mr Snell had begun a Commando operation some three hours earlier; at any moment now the patient would be handed over to her care. The doors swung silently open at that very moment and she pressed the buzzer which would let the orderly know that she must come at once, and advanced to meet the theatre party and receive the still figure on the trolley from the hands of the scrub nurse.

‘Hi, Tishy,’ said that young lady in a cheerful whisper. ‘Everything’s OK, buzz if you want any help.’ They cast a combined professional eye over the unconscious man between them. ‘He’s been a nasty colour once or twice, so keep your weather eye open.’

Letitia nodded. ‘What’s next? A cholecystectomy, isn’t it?’

Her friend and colleague nodded. ‘Yes—this one should be fit to move before Sir gets through with it, though. The anaesthetist will be out presently—he’s new by the way, filling in for Doctor van den Berg Effert.’ She raised her brows in an exaggerated arch. ‘Super, too.’ she handed over the theatre slip, cast an eye on the clock, murmured: ‘So long,’ and slid back through the doors.

Letitia began her work, silent save for the muttered word now and then to the attendant orderly, one Mrs Mead, a middle-aged lady of great good sense, who had the added virtue of doing exactly what she was asked to do without arguing about it—her whole mind, save for one minute portion of it, concentrated upon her task, and that tiny portion concealed so deliberately beneath her calm cringed away from the grotesque appearance of the patient; the flap of skin already grafted, later to be used to cover the extensive operation on his throat, gave the man, lying so still, a quite unhuman appearance, and yet she was fully aware that later, given skilled nursing, expert skin grafting and time, his appearance could be made perfectly acceptable even to the most sensitive. She noted his pulse, his pupil reactions and his breathing, charted her findings, and because his colour wasn’t quite to her satisfaction, turned on the oxygen. She was adjusting it when the door opened and a gowned and masked figure came unhurriedly in, to join her at the patient’s side. A large man, very tall, and when he pulled down his mask, extremely handsome with it, with fair hair already flecked with grey, bright blue eyes and a long straight nose whose winged nostrils gave him a somewhat arrogant expression. But his mouth was kind when he smiled, and he was smiling at her now. She didn’t smile back; since her unfortunate experience with the Medical Registrar she distrusted men—that was to say, all men under the age of fifty or so. She frowned at him, her eyes beneath their dark brows as bright a blue as his, her ordinary face, with its run-of-the-mill nose and large generous mouth, framed by the theatre mob cap which concealed the great quantity of dark brown hair she wore in a well-ordered coil on the top of her head.

‘OK?’ asked the giant mildly.

She handed him the chart with its quarter-hourly observations. ‘His colour isn’t quite as good as it was,’ she stated, ‘I’ve started the oxygen.’

He nodded and handed back the chart, looking at her now, instead of the patient. ‘Call me if you want me,’ he answered her, still very mild. ‘The name’s Mourik van Nie.’ He turned on his heel and slid through the doors, making no sound, and moving, considering his size, very fast.

She got on with her work, saying what was necessary to Mrs Mead, her mind on her patient. It was only after an hour, when the giant had been back once more, pronounced the patient fit to be transferred to the Intensive Care Unit and gone again, that she allowed herself to speculate who he was. Dutch, she supposed, like Doctor van den Berg Effert, one of the few men she liked and trusted and wasn’t shy of; but then he was married to Georgina, her elder sister’s close friend; they had trained together and now Margo was Sister on the Children’s Unit, and Georgina lived in the lap of luxury and a state of married bliss in Doctor van den Berg Effert’s lovely home in Essex. She and Margo had been there to stay once or twice and Letitia, living in a fool’s paradise in which the Medical Registrar was the only important being, had imagined herself living like that too—only it hadn’t turned out like that at all; he had taken her out for a month or two, talking vaguely about a future, which she, in her besotted state, had already imagined into a fact which wasn’t fact at all, only daydreams, and then, when she had refused to go away with him for the weekend, had turned the daydream into a nightmare with a jibing speech about old-fashioned girls who should move with the times, and ending with the remark that she wasn’t even pretty… She had known that, of course, but she had always thought that when one fell in love, looks didn’t matter so very much, but she had been too hurt to say anything, and how did one begin to explain that being the middle girl in a family of five daughters, strictly but kindly brought up by a mother with decidedly old-fashioned ideas and a father who was rector of a small parish in the depths of rural Devon was hardly conducive to being the life and soul of the swinging set.

She had said nothing at all, not because she was a meek girl, but because she was too choked with hurt pride and rage to make sense. She had thought of several telling speeches to make since that unhappy occasion, but since he worked on the Medical Wing and she spent her days in Theatre Unit, there was small chance of their meeting—and a good thing too, although her friends, meaning it kindly, kept her informed of his movements. He was currently wrapped up with Jean Mitchell, the blonde staff nurse on Orthopaedics, whom no one liked anyway; Letitia, in her more peevish moments, wished them well of each other.

The Commando case was transferred to the ICU.; she handed him over to the Sister-in-charge, repeated the instructions she had been given, put his charts into her superior’s hands, and raced back to the recovery room. The cholecystectomy would be out at any moment now and she had to fetch the fresh recovery tray and see that Mrs Mead had cleared the other one away and tidied up. They were nicely ready when the doors swung silently open once more. It had been a straightforward case; she received her instructions, obeyed them implicitly, and when the anaesthetist loomed silently beside her, handed him the chart without speaking; there was no need to tell him the things he could see for himself: the patient was ready to go to the ward and she stood quietly waiting for him to tell her so, which he did with an unhurried: ‘OK, Staff, wheel her away. There’s an end-to-end coming out in a few minutes, old and frail; do what you can and let me know if you need me.’

And so the day wore on. Letitia was relieved for a late dinner and found the canteen almost empty, though the Main Theatre staff nurse was still there and a handful of nurses who had been delayed by various emergencies.

Letitia wandered along the counter with her tray, looking for something cheap and nourishing; she had bought a dress on her last days off and her pocket was now so light that buying her meals had become a major exercise in basic arithmetic. She chose soup, although it was a warm June day, a roll to go with it and a slab of treacle tart, because starch was filling and even though it was fattening too she was lucky enough not to have that problem, being possessed of a neat little figure which retained its slender curves whatever she ate. She paid for these dainties at the end of the counter and went to join her fellow staff nurse, Angela Collins, who cast a sympathetic eye at the contents of her tray, said fervently: ‘Thank God it’s only a week to pay-day,’ and addressed herself to her own, similar meal.

Letitia nodded. ‘Holidays in four weeks,’ she observed cheerfully, and thought with sudden longing of the quiet Rectory. The raspberries would be ripe, she would go into the garden and walk up and down the canes, eating as many as she wanted. She sighed and asked: ‘How’s theatre? There’s only that resection left, isn’t there?’

Her friend snorted. ‘There was—they popped two more on the list while Sister wasn’t looking. She’s fighting mad, but Mr Snell’s doing his famous wheedling act and that new man has the charm turned full on—he’s got her all girlish. I must say he’s rather a dream; a pity he’s only here while our Julius takes a holiday.’

‘I thought you liked him.’

‘Our Julius? Of course I do—we all dote on him, but he’s married, isn’t he? To your sister’s best friend, too.’

Letitia nibbled at her roll, making it last. ‘Yes, she’s a sweetie, too.’

She wolfed down the treacle tart. ‘I’ve still got some tea, shall we make a pot?’

They hurried over to the Nurses’ Home and climbed to the top floor where the staff nurses had their rooms, and because there were several girls off duty, the tea was stretched to half a dozen mugs, sipped in comfort on Letitia’s bed to the accompaniment of a buzz of conversation until she looked at her watch, discovered that she was almost late, and flew back through the hospital once more, walking sedately in those parts where she was likely to meet Authority, who frowned on running nurses, and tearing like mad along the long empty back corridors.

The afternoon went fast; it was half past four before the last case was wheeled away to the ward and Letitia, aided by the faithful Mrs Mead, began clearing up. Between them they had the place stripped, cleaned and put together again by the time Big Ben chimed five o’clock. Mrs Mead had gone and Letitia had taken off her theatre dress and mob cap and was standing in the middle of the room doing absolutely nothing when the giant walked in once more.

‘Not got home yet?’ he asked carelessly as he crossed to the outside door. ‘Good afternoon to you.’ He smiled vaguely in her direction and she heard him walking rapidly along the corridor which led to the wards. When she couldn’t hear his footsteps any more she took one final look round the recovery room and went in her turn out of the door. As she passed the Surgical Wing she caught a glimpse of him, standing outside Sister’s office, deep in conversation with Staff Nurse Bolt, another friend of hers. They were both laughing and it made her feel a little lonely: he could have stopped and talked to her, too.

She had to hear of him later that evening, when half a dozen of them were sitting round consuming the chips they had been down the road to buy—cheaper than the canteen and filling—besides, someone had come back from days off with a large fruit cake and, between them they had gathered tea and sugar and milk and made a giant pot of tea. They had cast off their frilly caps and their shoes and some of them were already in dressing gowns and the noise was considerable. It was Angela who brought up the subject of the newcomer. ‘He’s fab,’ she uttered to anyone who cared to listen, ‘huge and smashing to look at, and one of those lovely slow, deep voices.’ She turned her head to look for Letitia, pouring tea. ‘Hey, Tishy, you must have had time to take a good look—didn’t you think he was absolutely super? Just about the most super man you’ve ever set eyes on?’

There was silence for a few seconds; every girl in the room knew about Tishy and the Medical Registrar, and because they all liked her they had done their best to help her by saying nothing about it and ignoring her pinched face and red eyes. It was a pity that Angela hadn’t stopped to think. Several of them spoke at once to save Tishy from answering, but she spoke with her usual composure. ‘I didn’t really look at him—we were too busy. He knows his job, though.’

There was a chorus of relieved agreement before someone wanted to know if the rest of them had seen the trouser suits in Peter Robinson’s, and the talk turned, as it so often did, to clothes.

Letitia was on duty at eight o’clock the next morning. The list was heavy enough to begin with, petering out after dinner time, so that by four o’clock she was clearing the recovery room in the pleasant anticipation of getting off duty punctually at half past four. As indeed she was. She wandered through the hospital on the way to her room; several of her friends were off duty too, they might have a few sets of tennis, it was a lovely day still. She stopped to look out of a window and saw Doctor Mourik van Nie getting into a car—a splendid BMW convertible. She studied its sleek lines and admired the discreet grey of its coachwork before she turned away, wondering where he was going.

Jason Mourik van Nie was going to Dalmers Place. An hour or so later he joined Julius van den Berg Effert and Georgina on the terrace behind the house. Polly, their very small daughter, was almost asleep on her father’s knee and Georgina exclaimed in relief as he walked out of the french windows. ‘There you are— Polly refuses to go to bed until you’ve kissed her good night.’ She smiled at her husband’s friend. ‘If you’ll do that right away. I’ll whisk her off to bed and Julius shall get us all a drink.’

Jason smiled at her, kissed his small goddaughter, exchanged a brief ‘Dag’ and sat down.

‘Stay where you are, darling,’ said Julius, ‘I’ll pop this young woman into her bed and bring the drinks as I come back.’

His wife gave him a warm smile. ‘Tell Nanny I’ll be up in ten minutes unless Ivo starts to cry.’ Her smile widened and Julius grinned back at her; Ivo was just two months old, a tiny replica of his father, whereas little Polly was like her mother with a gentle prettiness and most of her charm. She wound a small arm round her father’s neck now and smiled sleepily at him as he carried her into the house.

Jason watched them go. ‘Julius is a lucky man,’ he said quietly. ‘You, and the enchanting Polly, and now Ivo.’

‘I’m lucky too,’ Georgina told him, ‘I’ve got Julius.’

‘I hope someone says that about me one day,’ he observed. ‘May I smoke my pipe?’

She nodded. ‘Of course. Did you have a busy day?’

‘So-so. One Commando to start with and a couple of abdominals, then we petered out with appendices. Snell was operating again. Oh—Theatre Sister sent her love, I’ve forgotten what she said her name was and I couldn’t identify her very well; she was gowned up and masked, the only face I’ve seen clearly in these last few days was in the recovery room—quite unremarkable, though—it belongs to someone called Tishy.’

Georgina smiled. ‘Little Tishy. She’s Margo’s young sister—she must be twenty-three, I suppose, she qualified six months ago. You didn’t like her?’

Jason stretched his long legs and studied his enormous, beautifully shod feet. ‘I hadn’t really thought about it,’ he admitted carelessly. ‘Mousey girls with heavy frowns aren’t quite my line.’

‘Oh, she doesn’t frown all the time,’ stated Georgina quickly, ‘it’s only because you’re a man,’ and as her companion’s brows shot up: ‘She was almost engaged to the Medical Registrar, but he switched his interest to a dashing blonde on Orthopaedics—I daresay she was more accommodating. I don’t know what he said to poor little Tishy, but ever since then she’s shied away from anything male under fifty.’

‘Julius too?’

‘Julius is thirty-seven,’ his loving wife reminded him, ‘but Margo is a friend of mine and of course I know Tishy too; she’s been here once or twice, so she knows Julius quite well as well as working for him. He takes care to be casually friendly, bless him. She’s a splendid nurse.’

She turned her head and her eyes lighted up as they always did when she saw her husband.

‘Sorry I was so long,’ he apologized as he set the tray of drinks down. ‘Great-Uncle Ivo telephoned—wants to know when we’re going over to Bergenstijn. I told him we’d be there before the summer’s over. The theatre’s closing at the end of July, we’ll go then if you would like that, my love.’

Georgina agreed happily. ‘Lovely, Julius—we can all go. Cor and Beatrix and Franz-Karel can drive them over. Dimphena will be with Jan, I suppose, but they could come over…’

Jason studied his glass. ‘What a quiverful you took on when you married Julius,’ he observed idly, ‘four cousins of assorted ages.’

‘Don’t forget Polly and Ivo. But the others—they’re not small any more; Karel’s a post-graduate and almost finished with hospital, and Franz is sixteen, that only leaves Beatrix and Cor, and now Dimphena is married there’s quite a gap.’

‘Which we shall doubtless fill within the next few years,’ commented her husband softly.

‘I’m envious,’ said Jason slowly, and Georgina threw him a quick glance.

‘No need,’ she told him kindly, ‘you only have to lift a finger for all the prettiest girls to come running.’

‘That’s all very well as well as being grossly exaggerated, but none of these same girls had ever succeeded in convincing me that I can’t live without her.’

Georgina got up. ‘One day there’ll be a girl,’ she assured him, ‘though probably she won’t be pretty or come running. I’m going to see to Ivo.’

She ran indoors and the two men sat in silence for a few minutes, Presently Jason spoke. ‘As I said to Georgina just now, you’re a lucky devil, Julius.’

‘Yes, I know.’ He added thoughtfully, ‘I was thirty-three when I first met Georgina.’

‘A reminder that I’m thirty-five and still haven’t met my paragon?’ They both laughed before plunging into a discussion as to how the day had gone in theatre, absorbed in their world of anaesthetics.

It was later that evening as Georgina sat before her dressing table brushing her hair that she said suddenly: ‘Julius, can you think of a good reason for having Tishy down here?’

Her husband’s eyes met hers in the mirror. ‘Tishy?’ he queried mildly. ‘Why Tishy, darling?’

‘She could be exhausted,’ went on Georgina, taking no notice, ‘worn out with work and needing a few days’ rest…’

Julius had become adept at reading his wife’s mind. ‘She would have to work fast.’

Georgina gave him a doubtful look. ‘That won’t do, then,’ she stated positively. ‘I daresay she can’t bear the sight of him, and he’s hardly noticed her.’

‘My love, is it wise to play providence? They’re a most unlikely pair; just because Tishy is getting over hurt pride and Jason chooses to remain a carefree bachelor it doesn’t mean that they’ll fall into each other’s arms.’

‘No, I can see that, but it would be nice. If we just gave them the chance…’

But as it turned out there was no need of that.

Two days later, with the list almost over for the day, Letitia was starting on the clearing up, her mind happily occupied with plans for her days off, due to start in the morning. Two days, she mused, and almost no money so she wouldn’t be able to go home, but she could go to Epping, where an elderly aunt lived—no telephone, unfortunately, but Aunt Maud never minded an unexpected visitor for a couple of days. She had a dear little house on the edge of the forest and it would be pleasant after the heat and rush of London and the hospital. If Margo had been there they could have gone together, but she was on holiday, up in Scotland with friends. Letitia nodded her head in satisfaction, glad that she had made up her mind, and looked impatiently at the theatre doors; the case should have been finished by now, it was hernia and shouldn’t have to stay long in her care. She looked at the clock, calculating how soon she could get away that evening, then turned round to see who it was who had just come in from the outer door.

It was the very last person she wanted to see; Mike Brent, the Medical Registrar, lounging in, very sure of himself, his good-looking face wearing a smile which not so very long ago would have melted her heart and now, rather to her surprise, made no impression upon it at all.

‘Hullo,’ he said, ‘how’s little Tishy? Haven’t seen you around for quite a few weeks—I was beginning to think you might have run away.’

She eyed him steadily. ‘Why should you think that?’

He shrugged his shoulders. ‘Oh, well—no hard feelings.’

She arranged a recovery tray just so before she answered him. ‘I’m busy, there’s a case…’

He interrupted her impatiently. ‘Oh, come off it, Tishy. To tell you the truth I’ve been a bit worried; didn’t like to think of you feeling jilted and all that, you know—after all, I couldn’t help it if you took me seriously, could I? And you’re a bit out of date, aren’t you. I mean, the odd weekend doesn’t mean a thing…’

‘It does to me.’ Neither of them heard the theatre door open, Doctor Mourik van Nie’s voice startled them both. ‘Perhaps if I might break into this most interesting discussion on your love life?’ he suggested placidly, and turned to Letitia to study her furious face with gentle amusement.

‘This next case coming in within a few minutes—she’s not so good.’ He ignored the other man completely and began to give her instructions; by the time he had finished Mike had gone.

She boiled with temper while she dealt competently with her patient, damping down her furious thoughts so that she might concentrate on the matter in hand. Only some half an hour later, the patient transferred to the ward, nicely on the road to recovery again, did she allow her mind to dwell on the unfortunate episode which had occurred. And funnily enough it was the Dutchman she was furious with; for coming in like that and over-hearing Mike talking all that hot air. She paused, aware that his words, which at one time would have been quite shattering to her, were, in fact, just that. She had, let her face it, been a fool; she was well rid of him, even if her pride was still ragged at the edges. But that Doctor Mourik van Nie should have been a witness to such a nasty little scene—that was a different matter entirely; he must have found it amusing; he had stared at her as though he had never seen her before. She felt unreasonably annoyed about that, so that she clashed and banged her way around the recovery room before finally leaving it in a state of perfection. The quicker she got out of the hospital and into Aunt Maud’s placid company, the better.

In her room she flung a few things into an overnight bag, changed into the tan jersey cardigan suit with the shell pink blouse she had bought instead of eating properly that month, coiled her long hair neatly on the top of her head and, nicely made up, dashed out to catch a bus.

The Underground was crowded; she didn’t get a seat until the train had left Leytonstone, and it was a relief when she at last got out at Epping and went into the street. The crowds were a little less now, but the rush hour wasn’t quite over; track was still heavy coming from London. She was standing on the kerb waiting to cross the street when a group of people passing her unthinkingly shoved her off the curb into the path of the oncoming cars. She had a momentary glimpse of a sleek grey bonnet and heard the squeal of brakes as the bumper tipped her off balance. She fell, hoping desperately that her new out fit wouldn’t be ruined, aware as she fell that she had done so awkwardly and that her left ankle hurt most abominably. She had no chance to think after that, because Doctor Mourik van Nie was bending over her. ‘Well, I’m damned,’ he said, and then: ‘Does anything hurt? The bumper caught you and you fell awkwardly.’

Letitia sat up, glad of his arm, comfortably firm, round her shoulders. ‘I was trying to save my dress. It’s my ankle, otherwise I’m fine.’

A small crowd had collected, but the doctor took no notice of it, merely scooped her neatly off the ground and carried her to the car, where he sat her carefully on the front seat. ‘Let’s have a look,’ he suggested calmly, and slid her sandal off a decidedly swollen ankle. ‘A sprain, I fancy. Stockings or tights?’

‘Tights.’

He produced a pair of scissors from a pocket. ‘Sorry about this—I’ll get you another pair,’ he promised as he made a neat slit and cut the nylon neatly way above the ankle. He was reaching for his bag in the back of the car when the policeman arrived. Letitia sat back, listening to the doctor’s quiet answers to the officer’s questions, the eager chorus of witnesses, anxious to allow no blame to rest upon him, and her own voice, a little wobbly, giving her name and address and where she was going and why. By the time things had been sorted out the ankle had been firmly bandaged and her head was beginning to ache. She didn’t listen to what the doctor said to the policeman—indeed, she barely noticed when he got in beside her and started the car; she was suddenly sleepy. The car was comfortable to the point of luxury; she closed her eyes.

They were almost at Dalmers Place when she woke up again; she recognized the road almost at once. ‘I was going to my aunt in Epping,’ she began worriedly. ‘My days off, you know.’

‘You went to sleep—the best thing for you. Does she expect you?’

‘No.’

‘Then there’s nothing to worry about. I’m taking you to Dalmers Place. You’re a friend of Georgina, aren’t you—and Julius? They’ll be delighted to put you up for the night.’

She turned to look at him, quite shocked. ‘Oh, you can’t do that—invite me there without them knowing, whatever will they say? If you’d stop…oh, dear, we’ve gone through Bishop’s Stortford, haven’t we? Could you go a little out of your way to Saffron Walden? There’s a station there—I could get on a train back to Epping.’

‘Hopping all the way? Don’t be absurd. Besides, I feel responsible for you—I knocked you down.’

‘But it wasn’t your fault, and really I can’t allow you…’

He interrupted her in a placid voice. ‘Dear girl, what a mountain you are making out of this little molehill! And you know that you’re dying to get to bed and nurse that painful ankle.’

She had to laugh a little then and he gave her a quick sideways glance and said: ‘That’s better,’ and a moment later slowed the car to allow Mr Legg, who did the garden and lived in the lodge at Dalmers Place, to come out and open the gate for them, and then drove, still slowly, up the short, tree-lined drive to the house where he stopped before its door, told her to stay where she was, got out, and went round the side of the house.

Georgina looked up as he reached the terrace. ‘Hullo,’ she greeted him cheerfully. ‘We were just beginning to wonder what had happened to you.’

‘I’ve brought someone with me, I hope you won’t mind—it’s Tishy.’

He was quick to see the quick look his friends exchanged and went on smoothly, ‘I could take her on…’ to be cut short by Georgina’s fervent: ‘No, Jason—we’re delighted, really, only Julius and I were talking about her—oh, quite casually,’ she avoided her husband’s twinkling eye, ‘and it’s funny, isn’t it, how when you talk about someone they often turn up unexpectedly. Where have you left her?’

‘In the car. She sprained her ankle—I knocked her down.’

Georgina was already leading the way. ‘Oh, how unfortunate!’ she exclaimed, meaning exactly the opposite. She glanced at Julius over her shoulder and when Jason wasn’t looking, pulled a face at him. ‘But we must thank Providence that it was you, if you see what I mean.’




CHAPTER TWO


LETITIA SAT in the car, feeling a fool. Her ankle throbbed, so did her head, and she had been pitchforked into a situation which had been none of her doing. Probably Georgina would be furious at having an unexpected guest at less than a moment’s notice. True, she had been to Dalmers Place before, but only in the company of her sister Margo—it was Margo who was Georgina’s friend. She sought feverishly for a solution to her problem and came up with nothing practical, and when the three of them came round the house and crossed the grass towards the car, she found herself studying their faces for signs of annoyance. She could see none; Georgina was looking absolutely delighted and her husband was smiling, and as for Doctor Mourik van Nie, he wore the pleased look of one who had done his duty and could now wash his hands of the whole tiresome affair.

Georgina reached the car first. ‘Tishy,’ she exclaimed, ‘you poor girl—does it hurt very much? You shall go straight to bed and the men shall take another look at it—you look as though you could do with a drink, too. Thank heaven it was Jason who knocked you down and not some stranger who wouldn’t have known what to do.’ She paused for breath and Letitia said quickly: ‘I’m awfully sorry—I mean, coming suddenly like this and being so awkward.’ Her eyes searched Georgina’s face anxiously. ‘You don’t mind?’

‘Of course not, it’ll be fun once that ankle stops aching.’ She stood aside while Julius said Hullo in a welcoming way and Jason said matter-of-factly: ‘I’ll carry you in.’

‘I can hobble, I’m sure I can.’

He grinned. ‘I shouldn’t bet on that if I were you.’ He had opened the car door and swept her carefully into his arms. ‘Which room?’ he asked Georgina.

‘Turn left at the top of the stairs, down the little passage, the second door.’

Letitia wondered if the doctor found her heavy; apparently not, for he climbed the staircase at a good pace and with no huffing or puffing, found her room without difficulty and sat her down in a chair. ‘Georgina will help you undress,’ he told her with impersonal kindness, ‘and we’ll come back later and take another look at the ankle.’ He had gone before she could frame her thanks.

Half an hour later she was sitting up in bed, nicely supported by pillows and with the bedclothes turned back to expose her foot; by now the ankle was badly swollen and discoloured. The men came in together with Georgina and Letitia wasn’t sure whether to be pleased or not when neither gave her more than a cursory glance before bending over the offending joint, which they agreed was nothing more than a partial tear of the ligament and hardly justified an X-ray. ‘We’ll strap it,’ they told her. ‘You’ll have to rest it for three or four days, then you can start active use—a couple of weeks and you’ll be as good as new.’

‘A couple of weeks? But I’ve only got two days off!’ She was appalled at their verdict.

‘Sick leave?’ suggested Doctor Mourik van Nie. He sounded positively fatherly.

She stared at him; they were all being very kind, but she was spoiling their evening. She said quickly: ‘If I could go back to St Athel’s with you in the morning—there’s a list at nine o’clock, isn’t there?—I could see someone. That’s if you wouldn’t mind taking me.’

He gave her a long considered look and she felt her cheeks grow red.

‘No, I won’t take you, you silly girl. Georgina has already said that you’re to stay here until Julius pronounces you fit to travel, and that won’t be for a few days.’

‘Of course you’ll stay,’ chimed in Georgina warmly. ‘I shall love having you; these two are driving up to Edinburgh at the weekend, to some meeting or other, and I wasn’t looking forward to being alone one bit. And now I’m going to see about your dinner, you must be famished.’

‘And I’ll telephone St Athel’s,’ Julius suggested, and left the room with his wife, leaving Doctor Mourik van Nie lounging on the side of the bed.

‘That’s settled,’ he commented, and smiled at her, and for some reason she remembered that he had smiled that afternoon when he had come upon her and Mike.

‘You’re all very kind,’ she said crossly, because her head still ached, ‘but I don’t like being a nuisance.’

He got to his feet so that she had to tilt her head to look up at him.

‘My dear girl,’ he said, and his voice was bland, ‘the sooner you stop imagining that because one man said you were—er—old-fashioned, the rest of us are villains and you’re a failure, the better. I’m surprised at you; you seem to me to be a sensible enough girl, and when you smile you’re quite pretty.’

He strolled to the door. ‘You’ll feel better in the morning,’ he assured her as he went out.

Letitia stared at the shut door; probably she would feel much better in the morning, at the moment she felt quite sick with surprise and temper—how dared he talk to her like that?—it was possibly these strong feelings which caused her to burst into tears.

She was wiping her eyes when Georgina came back, and she, after one quick glance, made some thoughtful remark about delayed shock and proffered the glass of sherry she had brought with her. ‘Dinner in half an hour,’ she said cheerfully, ‘and Julius says a good night’s sleep is a must, so he’s coming along with a sleeping pill later on.’

Letitia sipped the sherry. ‘I’ve never taken one in my life,’ she protested, and then remembering what the Dutchman had said, added meekly: ‘But I will if he says so.’

She felt a lot better after her dinner and better still after a long night’s sleep. Indeed, she woke early and lay watching the sun gathering strength for another warm day, and she heard the car drive away too. That would be Doctor Mourik van Nie, she supposed, and she felt an unreasonable pique because he hadn’t come to inquire how she felt, but of course she wasn’t his patient, only an unfortunate incident at the end of a long day.

She sat up in bed, wincing a little at the pain in her ankle, and thought about him, willing to admit, now that it was morning and she was feeling better, that he had been quite right even if a little outspoken, the previous evening. She had been sorry for herself, she admitted that now, although she hadn’t much liked being dubbed as sensible, but he had said that she was almost pretty when she smiled. She smiled now, remembering it, and turned a beaming face upon the maid who presently tapped on the door with her early morning tea.

The day rolled along on well-oiled wheels; the house came alive, breakfasted, and settled down to the morning. Julius came early, examined the ankle, pronounced it to be going along nicely and left Georgina to help her out of bed and into a chair by the window and presently they all had their coffee there, with Polly playing happily and baby Ivo asleep in his cot. It was when Julius got up to go to his study that Letitia asked a little diffidently if he had telephoned the hospital.

‘Did I forget to tell you? You are to stay here until I consider it all right for you to travel, and it has been left to me to decide if you need a week off after that.’

She was unaware of how plainly her thoughts showed on her face. ‘Home for a few days?’ suggested Georgina, reading them correctly. ‘One of the men can take you up to town and drop you off at the station…’ She stopped and smiled, looking so pleased with herself that Letitia was on the point of asking why, but Julius spoke first, to say that he would be back very shortly and carry her down to the garden. ‘Far too nice a day to stay indoors,’ he pointed out kindly, and when she thanked him, adding that she hoped she wasn’t being a nuisance, he went on: ‘Of course not—we’re treating you as one of the family, Tishy, and Georgina’s delighted to have your company while we’re away, and in any case, just to prove how much we take you for granted, I’m driving her to Saffron Walden very shortly. Nanny will be here with the babies, of course, and Stephens will bring you your lunch and see that you’re comfortable. You don’t mind?’

He had struck the right note; she felt at ease now because she wasn’t spoiling their day after all. ‘Of course I don’t mind—it will be super doing nothing. You’re both so kind.’

Julius went away and Georgina smiled and offered to get a rather fetching housecoat of a pleasing shade of pink for her guest to wear. Letitia put it on, admiring the fine lawn and tucks and lace. It had a pie-frill collar and cuffed sleeves, and looking down at her person, she had to admit that lovely clothes did something for one…‘I can leave my hair, can’t I?’ she asked. ‘There’s no one to see.’

Her kind hostess bent down to pick up a hairpin. She said: ‘No one, Tishy,’ hoping that Providence, already so kind, would continue to be so.

The day was glorious. Letitia, lying comfortably on a luxurious day bed, leafed through the pile of glossy magazines she had been provided with, ate a delicious lunch Mrs Stephens had arranged so temptingly on the trays Stephens carried out to her, then closed her eyes. It was warm in the sun; she would have a crop of freckles in no time, but it really didn’t matter. She had spent a lot of money she really couldn’t afford on a jar of something or other to prevent them, because Mike had told her once that he thought they were childish. Thinking about it now, she began to wonder exactly what it was about her that he had liked. Whatever it had been, it hadn’t lasted long. She remembered with faint sickness how he had told her that she wasn’t pretty. ‘Not even pretty,’ he had said, as though there was nothing else about her that was attractive. She frowned at the thought and pondered the interesting question as to what Doctor Mourik van Nie would find attractive in a girl. Whatever it was, she felt very sure that she hadn’t got it. She dozed off, frowning a little.

She woke up half an hour later, much refreshed, and saw him sitting in an outside garden chair, his large hands locked behind his head, his eyes shut. She looked at him for a few seconds, wondering if he were really asleep and why was he there anyway; her watch told her that it was barely half past two; theatre should have gone on until at least four o’clock. Perhaps, she thought childishly, he wasn’t really there; he had been the last person she had thought about before she went to sleep—he could be the tail end of a dream. She shut her eyes and opened them again and found him still there, looking at her now. ‘You’ve got freckles,’ he observed, and unlike Mike, he sounded as though he rather liked them.

‘Yes, I know—I hate them. I bought some frightfully expensive cream to get rid of them, but it didn’t work.’

‘They’re charming, let them be.’ His voice was impersonal and casually friendly and she found herself smiling. ‘I thought theatre was working until four o’clock today.’

‘It was, but at half past twelve precisely some workman outside in the street pickaxed his way through the hospital’s water supply. Luckily we were on the tail end of an op, but we had to pack things up for the day. Do you mind if I go to sleep?’

She felt absurdly offended. ‘Not in the least,’ she told him in an icy little voice, and picked up a magazine. Unfortunately it was Elle and her French not being above average, looking at it was a complete waste of time; even the prices of the various way-out garments displayed in its pages meant nothing to her, because she couldn’t remember how many francs went to a pound.

‘You’re a very touchy girl,’ observed her companion, his eyes shut, and while she was still trying to find a suitable retort to this remark:

‘Am I right in suspecting that this—what’s his name—the Medical Registrar was the first man you ever thought you were in love with?’

She sat up and swung her legs over the side of the daybed. ‘I won’t stay here!’ she exploded. ‘You have no right…you don’t even know me…ouch!’

She had put her injured foot to the ground and it had hurt. The doctor got out of his chair in a patient kind of way, lifted the stricken limb back on to the daybed, said: ‘Lie still, do—and don’t be so bird-witted,’ and went back to his chair. His voice was astringent, but his hands had been very gentle. ‘And don’t be so damned sensitive; I’m not a young man on the look out for a girl, you know. I’m thirty-five and very set in my ways—ask Julius.’ He closed his eyes again. ‘I’m ever so safe, like an uncle.’ There was a little pause, then he opened one eye. ‘I like that pink thing and your hair hanging loose.’

Letitia had listened to him in amazement and a kind of relief because now she could think of him as she thought of Julius; kind and friendly and big brotherish. Two short months ago, if Mike had said that, she would have been in a flutter, now it didn’t register at all—at least, she admitted to herself, it was nice that he liked her hair. She took a quick peep and was disappointed to see that his eyes were closed once more.

He wasn’t asleep, though. ‘Where is your home?’ he asked presently.

She cast Elle aside with relief. ‘Devonshire, near Chagford—that’s a small town on Dartmoor. Father’s the rector of a village a few miles on to the moor.’

‘Mother? Brothers and sisters?’ His voice was casually inquiring.

‘Mother and four sisters.’

His eyes flew open. ‘Are they all like you?’

She wasn’t sure how to take that, but she answered soberly: ‘No, they’re all pretty. Hester—she’s the second eldest—is married, so’s Miriam, she comes after me, and Paula’s the last.’

‘And where do you come?’

‘In the middle.’

‘And your eldest sister—Margo, isn’t it? She’s George’s friend?’

‘Yes, they trained together. Margo’s away on holiday. She’s going to get engaged any day now.’

He opened an eye. ‘I always thought,’ he stated seriously, ‘that the young lady about to be proposed to was suitably surprised.’

Letitia giggled, and just for a few moments, in her pink gown and her shining curtain of hair, looked, even with the freckles peppering her nose, quite pretty, so that the doctor opened the other eye as well.

‘She and Jack have known each other ever since she was fifteen, but he went abroad—he’s a bridge engineer, so Margo has gone on working while he got his feet on the ladder, as it were, and now he’s got a marvellous job and they can buy a house and get married.’

‘And you will be a bridesmaid at the wedding, no doubt?’

‘Well, no—you see, we drew lots and Miriam and Paula won. It’s a bit expensive to have four bridesmaids.’

The corners of his firm mouth twitched faintly. ‘I daresay two are more than ample. I have often wondered why girls had them.’

She gazed at him earnestly as she explained: ‘Well, they make everything look pretty—I mean, the bride wants to look nicer than anyone else, but bridesmaids make a background for her.’

‘Ah, yes—stupid of me. Do you set great store on bridesmaids, Letitia?’

She was about to tell him that she hadn’t even thought about it, but that would have been a colossal fib; when she had imagined herself to be in love with Mike, her head had been full of such things. ‘I used to think it was frightfully important, but now I don’t imagine it matters at all.’

‘You know, I think you may be right.’ He heaved himself out of the chair and stretched enormously. ‘I’m going to get us a long cool drink and ask Stephens if we can have tea in half an hour. Can I do anything for you on my way?’

She shook her head and sat back, feeling the sun tracing more freckles and not caring. She wasn’t sure what had happened, but she felt as though Jason Mourik van Nie had opened a door for her and she had escaped. It was a lovely feeling.

The drinks were long and iced and he had added straws to her glass. She supped the coolness with delight and exclaimed: ‘Oh, isn’t this just super?’ then felt awkward because he might not find it super at all.

‘Very.’ He was lying back again, not looking at her. ‘Do you suppose you could remember to call me Jason? I call you Tishy, you know, although on second thoughts I think I’ll call you Letitia, I like it better.’

‘Mother always calls me that, but they call me Tishy at the hospital, and sometimes my sisters do too when they want me to do something for them.’

They had their tea presently in complete harmony and she quite forgot to wonder where Georgina and Julius had got to, and when Nanny came out with Ivo in his pram and Polly got on to the doctor’s knee, she lay back, listening to him entertaining the moppet with a series of rhymes in his own language, apparently quite comprehensible to her small ears. She watched him idly, thinking that it was pleasant doing nothing with someone you liked. She gave herself a mental shake; only a very short time ago she hadn’t liked him, but when she tried to remember the exact moment when she had stopped disliking him and liking him instead, she was unable to do so. Her thoughts became a little tangled and she abandoned them when Jason broke in on her musings with the suggestion that she might like to recite a nursery rhyme or two and give him a rest. She had got through ‘Hickory, Dickory, Dock’ and was singing ‘Three Blind Mice’ in a high sweet, rather breathy voice when Georgina and Julius joined them and the little party became a cheerful gossiping group, with Ivo tucked in his mother’s arms and Polly transferred to her father.

‘Ungrateful brat,’ remarked Jason pleasantly. ‘Letitia and I are hoarse with our efforts to amuse her and now she has no eyes or ears for anyone but her papa.’

‘You got back early?’ Georgina asked, and smiled a little.

Jason repeated the tale of the workman and his pickaxe and everyone laughed, then the men fell to making plans for their trip on the following day until Jason said: ‘I’ll carry Letitia indoors, I think, she doesn’t want to get chilled.’ He got up in leisurely fashion. ‘Where is she to go?’

‘The sitting-room—we’ll have drinks, shall we? No, better still, take her straight up to her room, will you, so she can pretty herself up, then you can bring her down again.’ Georgina looked at Letitia. ‘You’re not tired, Tishy?’

‘Not a bit—how could I be? I’ve been here all day doing absolutely nothing. It’s been heavenly, but I feel an absolute fraud.’

‘Until you try to stand on that foot,’ remarked Jason, and picked her up. ‘Back in ten minutes,’ he told her as he lowered her into the chair before the dressing table in her room and went away at once. She barely had the time to pick up her hairbrush before Georgina came in. ‘Don’t try and dress,’ she advised, ‘or do anything to your hair,’ and when Letitia eyed her doubtfully: ‘You look quite all right as you are.’

She went away too, so Letitia brushed her hair and creamed her freckles and sat quietly, not thinking of anything very much until Jason came to carry her downstairs again.

The evening was one of the best she could remember, for she felt quite at ease with Georgina and Julius, and as for Jason, his easy friendliness made her oblivious of her appearance and she even forgot her freckles. She reminded herself that two months ago, out with Mike, she would have been fussing about her hair and wondering if her nose were shining and whether she had on the right dress. With Jason it didn’t seem to matter; he hardly looked at her, and when he did it was in a detached way which didn’t once remind her that her hair was loose and a little untidy, and her gown, though charming, was hardly suitable for a dinner party. He carried her up to bed presently and before he left her took a good look at her ankle.

‘Quite OK,’ he pronounced, and wished her goodbye, because he and Julius would be leaving very early the next morning.

The house, after they had gone, seemed large and empty, a fact to which Georgina agreed, giving it her opinion that it was because they were two such large men; all the same, the two girls contrived to spend a pleasant day together, with Stephens and the gardener to carry Letitia down to the garden and the two babies to play with. Julius telephoned twice, the first time shortly after they had arrived, and the second time a few hours later, just as the girls were going to bed. Letitia wondered what Jason was doing, but she didn’t like to ask Georgina, who, for some reason, didn’t mention him at all, but when Julius telephoned the next morning, she couldn’t refrain from asking at what time the men might be expected back.

‘Well, there’s no telling,’ explained Georgina. ‘They both drive fast and awfully well and I daresay they’ll take it in turns, which means that they’ll do it in about six hours. They can do seventy on the motorway, you see, and that’s almost all the way. They’ll be here for tea.’

And she was right. Letitia was entertaining Polly with a demonstration of ‘Here’s the church, here’s the steeple’ when she heard men’s voices and looked up to see them strolling towards them. Neither looked in the least tired, although they ate an enormous tea.

‘No lunch?’ asked Georgina.

‘Well, my love, I had promised myself that we would be home for tea,’ Julius smiled at his wife, ‘and Jason liked the idea too.’

Letitia watching them, thought how wonderful it would be to be loved as much as that. She sighed, and Jason asked at once: ‘Are you tired? Do you want to go indoors and rest?’

She shook her head. ‘No, oh, no, thank you.’

His voice was kind. ‘One more day and then I should think you might try some gentle exercise. How does the ankle feel?’

She hardly noticed when the others went indoors and Jason started to tell her about Edinburgh and their meeting. She was surprised when Julius came out to ask them if they wanted to go in for drinks before dinner. The day, though pleasant, had been long, now the evening was going far too quickly.

The next few days went quickly too, each one speedier than its predecessor, or so it seemed because she was enjoying herself so much. It was a week after her accident, when she had been hobbling very creditably for a couple of days, that Julius gave her his verdict that she was to all intents and purposes, cured. Jason wasn’t back from hospital, she was sitting with Georgina and him, lingering over tea, watching Polly tumbling around on her short fat legs, and thinking how content she was. But it couldn’t last, of course; she said at once: ‘Oh, that’s good. Do you think that I should go straight back to St Athel’s?’

‘Lord, no, Tishy. A week’s leave—you can stay here if you care to—we love having you.’

She smiled at them both because they were so kind and they must have wished her out of the way on occasion. ‘You’re awfully kind,’ she told them, ‘but I’d love to go home. If I could have a lift up to town I could catch a train. Would you think me very ungrateful if I went tomorrow?’

‘Yes, very,’ said Julius promptly. ‘Make it the day after.’ He smiled as he spoke. ‘Do you want to collect more clothes before you go?’

‘No, thanks, I’ve some things at home—they’re a bit old, but I shan’t be going anywhere, so it won’t matter.’

So it was settled, and when Jason came home nobody thought of mentioning it to him and she didn’t like to say anything herself, although presumably, as Julius was still on holiday, it would be Jason who would have to give her a lift. It wasn’t until the next morning, after he had left the house, that Georgina remarked: ‘Oh, by the way, Jason says he’ll take you all the way, Tishy, if you don’t mind leaving quite early in the morning.’

Letitia buttered a piece of toast and sat looking at it. ‘I couldn’t let him do that,’ she said at length. ‘I mean, it’s miles away, even in that car of his.’

It was Julius who answered her. ‘Well, he’ll be home after tea, why don’t you talk to him about it then? And if you’d really rather go by train, he can still give you a lift up to town.’

So she was forced to contain herself until the early evening, for Jason was late home. By the time he strolled in they were all in the drawing room with the children in bed and dinner but half an hour away. Julius got up to get him a drink. ‘A bit of a rush?’ he wanted to know.

‘The Commando went wrong—he picked up eventually, but it lost us a couple of hours, we didn’t finish until six o’clock.’

Georgina glanced at the carriage clock on its bracket. ‘You made good time.’

He had taken a seat at the other end of the sofa where Letitia was sitting. ‘The car went well.’ He looked at Letitia. ‘How far to Chagford, dear girl?’

She jumped because she hadn’t expected his question. ‘Well…yes, the thing is Georgina told me…it’s very kind of you to offer me a lift, but I really can’t…if you wouldn’t mind dropping me off at Paddington…’ She stopped, aware that she wasn’t making much of a success of it.

‘I think you’ve got it wrong,’ explained Jason, at his most placid. ‘I’m going down to Plymouth tomorrow— I have to. I might just as well take you as not—the car’s empty and I’m not going more than a few miles out of my way. It’s no sacrifice on my part, Letitia.’

She told herself that she was relieved to hear that even while a faint prick of annoyance shot through her; would it have been such a sacrifice if he had been asked to drive her down to Chagford? Probably; he had called her touchy, hadn’t he? And damned sensitive, too—and he had wanted to go to sleep instead of talking to her. That still rankled a little. He must find her incredibly dull after the glamorous young ladies he was doubtless in the habit of escorting. She said in a wooden voice: ‘Well, thank you, I’ll be glad of a lift. When do you want to start tomorrow?’

‘That brings us back to my question. How far to Chagford?’

‘A hundred and eighty-seven miles from London.’

‘A good road?’

She frowned in thought. ‘Well, I don’t know it very well. It’s the M3 and then the A30 for the rest of the way, more or less.’

‘Good enough. We’ll go round the ring road and pick up the motorway on the other side of London. Leave at nine sharp? You’ll be home for tea.’

‘It’s quite a few miles to Plymouth from my home,’ she reminded him.

‘That’s all right, Letitia,’ he told her pleasantly. ‘I enjoy driving, it makes a nice change from theatre, you know.’

‘That’s settled, then,’ said Georgina comfortably. ‘Let’s have dinner, Mrs Stephens has made a special effort by way of a farewell gesture to you, Tishy, so we mustn’t spoil it.’ She turned to Jason. ‘You’ll be back in a day or two, won’t you? Spend a day or two here on your way home.’

‘Thanks, George, but only an hour or so—I can’t expect Bas to do my work and his for ever.’

‘You do his when he goes on holiday, but I know what you mean. Still, we’ll see you when we come over on holiday.’

‘Of course. Julius and I might even get in some sailing.’ A remark which triggered off a conversation about boats which lasted through dinner, and although the talk became general afterwards, Letitia, on her way up to bed an hour or so later, discovered that beyond casual remarks which she could count on the fingers of one hand, Jason hadn’t talked to her at all. She went to bed a little worried, for it augured ill for their journey the next day. Would they travel in silence, she wondered, or should she attempt to entertain him with lighthearted remarks about this and that? It was a great pity that she knew nothing about sailing and not much about fast cars. And it would bore him to talk about his work. She was still worrying away at her problem like a dog at a bone when she at last fell asleep.




CHAPTER THREE


IT WAS A glorious morning and bade fair to be a hot day; the tan jersey suit was going to be far too warm before very long. Letitia wished she had something thinner to wear, until she saw that Jason intended travelling with the BMW’s hood down. She prudently tied a scarf over her hair, assured him that she liked fresh air, bade her friends good-bye and got into the seat beside him, eyeing the restrained elegance of his cotton sweater and slacks; he was a man who looked elegant in anything he wore, she considered, blissfully unaware of the price he paid for such elegance.

‘Warm enough?’ he wanted to know, and when she said yes, nodded carelessly and with a last wave took the car down the drive, past the little lodge and into the lane. ‘Nice day for a run,’ he observed, then lapsed into silence. Now would be the time, thought Letitia, when she should embark on a sparkling conversation which would hold him enthralled, but there wasn’t an idea in her head, and the harder she thought, the emptier it became.

‘Ankle all right?’ asked her companion, and she embarked with relief on its recovery, her gratitude to Julius and Georgina and himself, and how much she had enjoyed her stay at Dalmers Place. But even repeating herself once or twice couldn’t spin her colloquy out for ever; she lapsed into silence once more, looking at the scenery with almost feverish interest in case Jason should imagine that he might be forced to entertain her.

They were slowing down to go through Epping when he said blandly: ‘This erstwhile young man of yours—did he train you to speak only when spoken to?’

She was instantly affronted. ‘What a perfectly beastly thing to say! Of course not. I—I can’t think of anything to talk about, if you must know.’

‘Dear girl, I’m in the mood to be entertained by the lightest of chat, and surely you’re used to me by now— Big Brother Jason, and all that.’

She laughed then and he said at once: ‘That’s better. I thought we might stop for coffee before we get on to the motorway—Windsor, perhaps, with luck we should be able to lunch in Ilminster, unless there is anywhere else you would prefer?’

She shook her head. She didn’t know of any restaurants as far-flung as that; when she had gone out with Mike he had taken her to unpretentious places where he always made a point of assuring her that the food was good however humble the establishment appeared to be. She suspected that his ideas of good food weren’t quite in the same category as Jason’s; certainly the hotel where he chose to stop for coffee was a four-star establishment, the kind of place Mike would have considered a great waste of money. She savoured the luxury of their pleasant surroundings and began to enjoy herself. Jason was a charming companion and amusing and not in the least anxious to impress her. They went on their way presently, nicely embarked on the kind of casual talk which demanded very little effort and allowed for the maximum of laughter. Letitia hardly noticed the miles as they slipped by under the BMW’s wheels, and when they stopped in Ilminster, she said regretfully: ‘How quickly the time has gone!’

The doctor smiled gently, remarking merely that he was hungry and hoped that she was too as he ushered her into the George Hotel. ‘See you in five minutes in the bar,’ he suggested, and left her to tidy her wildly untidy hair and re-do her face. The freckles were worse than ever, she noted with disquiet, and then decided to ignore them; Jason had said he liked them.

The hotel was a pleasant place. They had their drinks and then ate their lunch with healthy appetites; cold roast beef, cut paper-thin, with a salad so fresh that it looked as though it had just been picked from the garden, and a rhubarb pie which melted in the mouth to follow, accompanied by enough clotted cream to feed a family of six. They washed down this splendid meal with a red Bordeaux and rounded everything off with coffee before taking to the road once more, making short work of the miles to Exeter, and once through that city and out on to the Moretonhampstead road, with the hills of Dartmoor ahead of them, they slowed down so that they might miss nothing of the scenery around them.

Somehow it didn’t surprise her to learn that the doctor had been that way before, she suspected that he was a man who got around quite a bit without boasting about it—all the same, she was able to point out some of the local sights as they went along, and when they had gone through Moretonhampstead and slowed down still more to go through Chagford, she told him about the Grey Wethers stone circle close by before directing him to turn off the road and take a winding lane leading off towards the heart of the moor.

‘It’s such a small village that it isn’t on all the maps,’ she explained, ‘and the road isn’t very good, although a few people use it when they want to see Yes Tor, but most of them go from the Okehampton road, it’s easier.’

Her companion grunted and dropped to a crawl; the lane had become narrow and winding, sometimes passing through open wild country with enormous views, and then dipping into small, densely wooded valleys which defied anyone passing through them to see anything at all.

‘We’re almost there,’ offered Letitia placatingly as Jason swung the car round a right-angled bend, ‘and you won’t need to come out this way; there’s a good road over the moor that will get you on to the Tavistock road.’ She pointed down into the valley running away to their left. ‘There’s the church.’

The lane became the village street with a scattering of cottages on either side before it widened into a circle with an old-fashioned drinking trough for horses in its centre. The church lay ahead with the rectory alongside, a wicket gate separating its garden from the churchyard, past which the road wandered off again, up the hill on the other side. Jason, still crawling, afforded Mrs Lovelace, who ran the village shop and post office, and was the natural fount of all local gossip, an excellent opportunity of taking a good look at both him and his beautiful motor-car as he turned into the rectory gateway, slid up its short drive and stopped soundlessly before its porch.

The garden had appeared to be empty, but all at once it was full of people; her father coming round the side of the house to meet them—a middle-aged, rather portly man, of medium height and with a cheerful face, and her mother, who rose, trowel in hand, from the middle of a clump of lupins ornamenting the herbaceous border, and four girls, all pretty, who came tearing out of the door to cluster round the car.

Letitia cast a lightning glance at her companion and found him to be as placid as usual, only his brows were raised a little and a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.

The introductions took quite a few minutes and the doctor bore up under them with equanimity. They were out of the car by now and Letitia, having made Jason known to her parents, started on her sisters.

‘Margo,’ she began, ‘back from Scotland, I daresay you’ve seen her at St Athel’s, and Hester, she’s married to a doctor in Chagford, and Miriam who’s married to a vet in Moretonhampstead, and this is Paula, who’s still at school.’

He shook their proffered hands and submitted to a battery of eyes without appearing to mind.

‘A little overpowering,’ murmured the Rector as Letitia was drawn, with a lot of talking and laughter, into the family circle. ‘So many women—of course, I’m used to them, bless their hearts, but they might possibly strike terror into a stranger’s heart.’

The doctor laughed: ‘Hardly that.’ He turned round to look at them, gathered in a charming bunch round Letitia. ‘You must be delighted to have them all home together,’ he observed to Mrs Marsden.

She smiled at him, a small, still pretty woman. ‘Yes, it’s wonderful, and it happens so seldom. How kind of you to bring Letitia home—such an unfortunate accident…’

‘I was the cause of it, Mrs Marsden.’

She shook her head. ‘But not to blame; Letitia wrote and told me exactly how it happened; it was hardly your fault that she was pushed into the road.’ She looked with interest at the BMW. ‘It’s a beautiful car, Doctor…’ she wrinkled her nose, ‘I’m so sorry, I’ve forgotten your name.’

‘Jason.’

She smiled at him. ‘Such a nice name. You’ll stay to tea?’

‘I’d like to very much.’





Конец ознакомительного фрагмента. Получить полную версию книги.


Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».

Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию (https://www.litres.ru/betti-nils/small-slice-of-summer/) на ЛитРес.

Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.