She said yes, she had, her voice placid, and went on to remind him that she would be going back on the three o’clock train, whereupon he offered to drive her to the station. ‘It will be a nice little run for your godfather, too,’ he said with satisfaction, and added a little anxiously: ‘How about our tea, my dear—and supper?’
‘Tea’s all ready on a tray on the kitchen table, Father, you only have to boil a kettle. It’s cold supper, on the top shelf of the fridge, but I should think Joyce would be back by then. I’ll lay up another tray after I’ve washed up, though, just in case she isn’t.’
The matter being settled, she got on with the chores, repacking her bag once more before going in search of her father to remind him that he was taking her into Chelmsford. She sat with her godfather on the back seat because he complained mildly that he had seen almost nothing of her, and presently she wished she had insisted on him sitting with her father, because the questions he put to her were a little disconcerting and far too searching. Was she happy at the hospital? Had she any plans for the future, had she a young man?—an old-fashioned term which hardly fitted the circumstances, she considered, half amused. And what did she think of Reilof van Meerum?
She hedged round the last question. She didn’t know him well—he seemed very nice, but how could she know…?
‘You don’t need to know anything about anybody,’ stated her godfather, ‘either you like them or you don’t.’ He gave her a sidelong glance. ‘You do, Laura?’
‘Well, yes, Uncle Wim.’ She hastened to give the conversation another turn. ‘You’ll be here when I come home again—I’m not sure when…?’
‘I’ll be here—I shall go back with Reilof, but he comes so frequently I have no plans at present but shall fit in with him.’
‘Then I shall see you again.’ She checked, just in time, a sigh of relief as her father came to a halt before the station entrance, then she bent to kiss her companion and bade him stay where he was as she got out. She retrieved her bag, kissed her father too, and hurried away to catch her train. She spent the journey wondering what Joyce and Reilof were doing; Joyce had been very sure of him—any time now, thought Laura unhappily, I shall get a message to say that they’re going to get married. She gazed out of the window, seeing nothing of the rather dreary fringe of London and wishing she could be miles away, so that she couldn’t be telephoned, then she would never know—no, that would be far worse. The sooner she knew the better. Then she could start to forget Reilof as the man she had fallen in love with, and think of him as a future brother-in-law. The idea appalled her.
CHAPTER THREE
LAURA was sitting in Ann Matthew’s room, drinking tea and joining in, in an absent manner, the end-of-day talk. Ann had Women’s Surgical and had been on duty for the weekend, as had several other of Laura’s friends, and she had been greeted with the news that there had been a minor train accident that morning with a large number of light injuries to be dealt with as well as several cases to be warded.
‘Sunday morning,’ protested Audrey Crewe, who ran the Accident Room with the efficient nonchalance of an expert and was the envy of every student nurse who worked for her. ‘The one time in the week when I can really get down to the wretched off-duty and have two cups of coffee in a row—they poured in, ducky, and so dirty, poor souls—though most of them only had cuts and bruises and shock. I had to send four up to you, though, Laura—they’ll keep you busy for a day or two; two have had surgery, the others won’t be done until tomorrow, they’re not fit enough.’
‘It’s news like that that brings me rushing back,’ remarked Laura tartly, and was instantly sorry she had said it, because someone asked, ‘Why did you come back this afternoon, Laura? You usually sneak in at the last possible moment.’
‘Well, Joyce was out for the day, and the earlier train fitted in with Father’s plans…’
‘Go on with you,’ said a voice from the door. ‘You’ve quarrelled with the boy-friend. You’re wanted on the telephone, love—I expect he wants to make it up.’
There was a little outburst of laughter as Laura went out of the door, and she laughed with them while her insides went cold. It would be Joyce, to tell her that she was going to marry Reilof van Meerum, and she was so certain of it that when she heard her sister’s excited voice telling her just that, it wasn’t a shock at all, just a numbness which gripped her brain and her tongue so that Joyce asked sharply:
‘Laura? Are you still there? Why don’t you say something?’
‘It’s marvellous news,’ she managed then, her voice calm and pleasantly surprised, ‘and I hope you’ll both be very happy. Does Father know?’
‘Yes,’ bubbled Joyce, ‘and so does Uncle Wim, but you know what old people are, they hum and ha and sound so doubtful…’
‘Well, as long as neither of you is doubtful, I shouldn’t think there was anything to worry about, darling.’
‘We’ve opened a bottle of champagne—isn’t it all wildly exciting? Reilof’s here—he wants to speak to you.’
Laura drew a long breath and thanked heaven silently that she didn’t have to meet him face to face. At least by the time they did meet again she would have her feelings well in hand. All the same, when she heard his quiet ‘Laura?’ in her ear, she had to wait a second before she could get out a matter-of-fact ‘hullo’.
‘Aren’t you going to congratulate me?’ he asked.
‘Of course, with all my heart.’
‘That’s nice to hear. I’m sure you’re going to be a delightful sister-in-law. A pity that you aren’t here to celebrate with us. You must be sure and have a free weekend next time I come over.’
‘Oh, rather.’ Laura was aware that she sounded far too hearty, she would be babbling if she wasn’t careful, any minute now her tongue would run away with her. ‘Such a pity I had to come back early,’ she chattered brightly, ‘but I’d promised ages ago…’
His ‘Oh, yes?’ sounded faintly amused and a little bored; she was wasting his time, time he could be spending with Joyce. She held the mouthpiece a little way from her and called: ‘Okay, I’m coming now,’ and then spoke into it again. ‘So sorry, someone’s waiting for me—have a glass of champagne for me, won’t you? See you soon. ’Bye!’
She hung up and went slowly back up the stone staircase, not going back to Ann’s room but into her own. But that wouldn’t do, sooner or later someone would come looking for her. She snatched up a towel and sponge and went into one of the bathrooms and turned on the taps, and presently when a voice asked her if she was in there, she was able to answer quite cheerfully that the telephone call had taken so long that it hadn’t seemed worthwhile going back to them all.
‘Not bad news, I hope?’ asked the voice anxiously.
She forced her voice into just the right tones of pleased excitement: ‘Lord, no. Marvellous, actually—Joyce has got engaged. I’ll tell you all about it later.’
Later was breakfast, a blessedly hurried meal, so that she barely had the time to repeat the news baldly, listen to the excited babble of talk when someone realised that Reilof was the dishy doctor who had been seen with Mr Burnett, admit that he had been visiting her home quite regularly for the past week or so, and gobble her toast