Loveday sucked in her breath like a happy child and went to the door to see who was there. It was the porter with her case.
‘Todd’s the name, miss. I’m here all day until seven o’clock, so do ask if you need anything. Dr Fforde said you’ve got a cat. I’ll bring up a tray and suchlike before I go. There’s enough in the cupboard to keep you going for a bit.’
She thanked him, settled the cat on the bed and offered it food, then tidied her hair, powdered her nose and went down to the first floor, the door key in her pocket. She should have been feeling nervous, but there hadn’t been time.
She knocked and walked in. This was the waiting room, she supposed, all restful greys and blues, and with one or two charming flower paintings on the walls. There was a desk in one corner with a filing cabinet beside it.
‘In here,’ said Dr Fforde, and she went through a half-open door to the room beyond where he sat at his desk. He got up as she went in.
He noticed with satisfaction that she looked very composed, as neat as a new pin, and the black eye was better, allowing for a glint of vivid green under the lid.
‘I’ll take you round and show you where everything is, and we will have coffee while I explain your work. There should be time after that for you to go around on your own, just to check things. As I told you, there are few skills required—only a smiling face for all the patients and the ability to cope with simple routine.’
He showed her the treatment room leading from his consulting room. ‘Nurse Paget comes about ten o’clock, unless I’ve a patient before then. She isn’t here every day, so she will explain her hours to you when you meet her. Now, this is the waiting room, which is our domain.’
Her duties were simple. Even at such short notice she thought that she would manage well enough, and there would be no one there in the afternoon so she would have time to go over her duties again. There would be three patients after five o’clock, he told her.
‘Now, your hours of work. You have an early-morning start—eight o’clock—an hour for lunch, between twelve and one, and tea when you have half an hour to spare during the afternoon. You’ll be free to leave at five o’clock, but I must warn you that frequently I have an evening patient and you would need to be here. You have half-day on Saturday and all Sunday free, but Miss Priss came in on Saturday mornings to get everything ready for Monday. Can you cope with that?’
‘Yes,’ said Loveday. ‘You will tell me if I don’t do everything as you like it?’
‘Yes. Now, salary…’ He mentioned a sum which made her blink the good eye.
‘Too much,’ said Loveday roundly. ‘I’m living rent-free, remember.’
She encountered an icy blue stare. ‘Allow me to make my own decisions, Miss West.’
She nodded meekly and said, ‘Yes, Doctor,’ but there was nothing meek about the sparkle in her eye. She would have liked to ask him to stop calling her Miss West with every breath, but since she was in his employ she supposed that she would have to answer to anything she felt he wished to call her.
That night, lying in her bed with the cat wrapped in one of her woolies curled up at her feet, Loveday, half asleep, went over the day. The two morning patients had been no problem; she had greeted them by name and ushered them in and out again, dealt with their appointments and filed away their notes and when the doctor, with a brief nod, had gone away, she had locked the door and come upstairs to her new home.
Todd had left everything necessary for the cat’s comfort outside the door. She had opened the window onto the flat roof, arranged everything to her satisfaction and watched the cat creep cautiously through the half-open window and then back again. She’d fed him then, and made herself a cheese sandwich and a cup of coffee from the stock of food neatly stacked away in the kitchen.
The afternoon she had spent prowling round the consulting rooms, checking and re-checking; for such a magnificent wage she intended to be perfect…
The doctor had returned shortly before the first of his late patients, refused the tea she had offered to make him, and when the last one had gone he’d gone too, observing quietly that she appeared to have settled in nicely and bidding her goodnight. She had felt hurt that he hadn’t said more than that, but had consoled herself with the thought that he led a busy life and although he had given her a job and a roof over her head that was no reason why he should concern himself further.
She had spent a blissful evening doing sums and making a list of all the things she would like to buy. It was a lengthy list…
Dr Fforde had taken himself off home. There was no doubt about it, Loveday had taken to her new job like a duck to water. His patients, accustomed to Miss Priss’s austere politeness, had been made aware of the reason for her absence, and had expressed polite concern and commented on the suitability of her substitute. She might not have Miss Priss’s presence but she had a pleasant manner and a quiet voice which didn’t encroach…
He’d had an urgent call from the hospital within ten minutes of his return to his home. His work had taken over then, and for the time being, at least, he had forgotten her.
Loveday slept soundly with the cat curled up on her feet, and woke with the pleasant feeling that she was going to enjoy her day. She left the cat to potter onto the roof, which it did, while she showered and dressed and got breakfast. She wondered who had had the thoughtfulness to get several tins of cat food as she watched the little beast scoff its meal.
‘You’re beginning to look like a cat,’ she told him, ‘and worthy of a name.’ When he paused to look at her, she added, ‘I shall call you Sam, and I must say that it is nice to have someone to talk to.’
She made him comfortable on the woolly, left the window open and went down to the consulting room.
It was still early, and there was no one about except the porter, who wished her a cheerful good morning. ‘Put your rubbish out on a Friday,’ he warned her. ‘And will you be wanting milk?’
‘Yes, please. Does the milkman call?’
‘He does. I’ll get him to leave an extra pint and I’ll put it outside your door.’
She thanked him and unlocked the waiting room door. For such a magnificent sum the doctor deserved the very best attention; she dusted and polished, saw to the flowers in their vases, arranged the post just so on his desk, got out the patients’ notes for the day and put everything ready to make coffee. That done, she went and sat by the open window and watched the quiet street below. When the Bentley whispered to a halt below she went and sat down behind her desk in the corner of the room.
The doctor, coming in presently, glanced at her as he wished her a brisk good morning and sighed with silent relief. She hadn’t been putting on a show yesterday; she really was composed and capable, sitting there sedately, ready to melt into the background until she was wanted.
He paused at his door. ‘Any problems? You are quite comfortable upstairs?’
‘Yes, thank you, and there are no problems. Would you like coffee? It’ll only take a minute.’
‘Please. Would you bring it in?’
Since she made no effort to attract attention to herself he forgot her, absorbed in his patients, but remembered as he left to visit those who were housebound or too ill to come and see him, to wish her good morning and advise her that he would be back during the afternoon.
Loveday, eating her lunchtime sandwich, leaning out of the window watching Sam stretched out in the autumn sunshine, told the cat about the morning’s work, the patients who had come, and the few bad moments she had had when she had mislaid some notes.
‘I