Heidelberg Wedding

He smiled at her and she thought again what a lucky girl she was to be loved by such a steady type. They ate their chicken talking comfortably and then got up to dance. The band was good and the floor not too crowded; Humphrey danced well even if without much imagination, and Eugenia had a chance to look around her. Her dress was definitely last year’s—the creations whirling past, worn by slender creatures with exquisitely made up faces and up-to-the-minute hair-styles, showed it up for what it was. It was the wrong colour for a start, anyone who read the fashion magazines would see that at once, and it was too high in front and by rights should have almost no back. Eugenia, not needing to think about Humphrey’s strictly conservative dancing, gave her mind to the vexed question of getting another dress. There was the Spring Ball in a few weeks’ time, so there was every excuse to have one…on the other hand, if Humphrey could do without things in order to save for the future, so could she. She looked over his shoulder straight into Mr Grenfell’s interested gaze.

He was with his fiancée; Eugenia recognised her at once, slim as a wand, not a hair out of place, perfect make-up and a dress such as she could never hope to possess. She gave him a cool smile and he opened his sleepy eyes and smiled back and then circled away. She noticed that he danced with the kind of nonchalant ease which reflected the way in which he did everything else.

Humphrey executed a correct turn. ‘I see Mr Grenfell’s here. That’s a remarkably pretty girl—she’s his fiancée, is she? I suppose she is. I must say he’s taken his time, he must be thirty-five if he’s a day.’

Eugenia said naughtily: ‘Perhaps he’s saving up…’

Humphrey’s sense of humour wasn’t quite a hundred per cent. ‘Oh, certainly not that; he’s very well off, I believe, one might say wealthy. Family money, you know.’

‘No, I didn’t know,’ Eugenia told him, ‘I’ve never been interested enough to think about it.’

He gave her hand a gentle squeeze. ‘You’re far too sensible a girl,’ he observed approvingly.

And that from Humphrey was a compliment.

Mr Grenfell, Eugenia was quick to observe, was at a table for two not so very far from their own table. After discovering that, she took great care not to look in that direction again, and since Humphrey declared that he was too tired to dance again and had a hard day ahead of him they left very shortly afterwards. Eugenia would have liked to have stayed until the small hours, but Humphrey needed his sleep, she knew that; his mother had explained at great length that unless he had his proper rest his health would suffer. She had stifled the remark that if that were the case, it would have been far better if he had never taken up medicine, a profession where sleep was sometimes sketchy to say the least, but she had agreed mildly, being a kind girl and wishing Mrs Parsons might like her and treat her as a daughter.

She got up at once and went to get her coat, and five minutes later was being driven back to St Clare’s. And once there, their goodnights were swiftly said—not that Humphrey’s kiss was not entirely satisfactory, but he showed no signs of lingering, only said briskly: ‘Get to bed, dear—you need a good sleep and so do I.’

All the same, she tried to keep him for a few minutes longer.

‘It was a lovely evening, Humphrey—I wish we could do it more often.’

‘Now don’t get ideas into your head!’ He was half laughing at her. ‘I’m not Grenfell, you know.’ He added slowly: ‘I must say his girl’s a charmer. Not that you’re so bad yourself—you could do with losing a few pounds, though. I’ll work out a diet for you.’ He patted her on a shoulder and got back into the car to take it round to the hospital garage, leaving her gibbering with rage. He had called her fat—not in so many words, but that was what he’d meant, and she wasn’t—her weight was exactly right for her size and her curves were in all the right places. She went slowly through the hospital on the way to her room, feeling miserable. She wanted to please Humphrey, so she supposed she would go on to the diet, although she thought that for a young woman of her size, extreme slenderness would look all wrong; she was a big girl, walking proudly and unselfconsciously, but she had the frame to take a nicely rounded body, wouldn’t she look silly if she were straight up and down, both back and front! She tumbled into bed and fell asleep with the problem unsolved.

She woke once in the night and remembered that she had forgotten to tell Humphrey that she wouldn’t be able to get off on Friday afternoon—she must remember to tell him in the morning.

She saw him briefly just after breakfast. He looked very handsome in his white coat and grey suit, and well turned out, but then he always did; he considered it important that he should look his best at all times. Eugenia had just taken the report and was noting the day’s work when he came down the ward and into her office, to give her a wry smile and say appreciatively, ‘You look nice—very neat too. Uniform suits you, Eugenia.’

She pushed her work on one side. ‘Compliments so early in the morning? You’ll turn my head! Do you want to see someone?’

‘Only you. I’ve written out a diet for you—you should lose at least half a stone in a month—it’s easy enough to follow even on the hospital food.’

Eugenia cast a quick eye down his neat writing. Of course it was easy to follow; all she had to do, as far as she could see, was drink milkless tea and eat oranges and lettuce. ‘Where’s the protein?’ she asked.

He leant over the desk. ‘Here—fish and the odd ounce of cheese and a potato every other day.’

‘I’ll give it a whirl,’ she told him. ‘But if you get me on Women’s Medical with anorexia nervosa, you’ll be to blame.’

He laughed. ‘You’ll be a knockout! You’ll have to take in the seams of your dress for the Spring Ball.’

She said seriously: ‘Oh, no—I shall buy a new one.’

He frowned. ‘That’s absurd—a new dress for just one dance…’

Eugenia nodded her beautiful head briskly. ‘That’s right—and now I really must do some work.’ She smiled enchantingly at him. ‘And when I’ve given out the post I’ll weigh myself.’

It was half an hour before she was back in the office. Giving out the morning’s post was by way of being a social round as well; she had already been to see the ill patients and wished the ward a general good morning, but now she went slowly from bed to bed, handing out letters, listening to complaints, gossiping gently, taking care to stay a little longer with those who had no post that day, staying even longer by the beds of the ill patients, making sure that everything was just as it should be.

Harry would be round presently and there were several patients to go to X-ray, quite a few for physiotherapy and two to be got ready to go home.

She sat down at the desk to check the operation list for the next day and check the list of admissions too. Besides that, she would have to rearrange the off-duty for Friday if Mr Grenfell intended to do a teaching round.

She was nibbling the end of her pen, frowning over this, when the door opened and Mr Grenfell walked in. ‘I did knock, but you didn’t hear,’ he observed mildly. ‘I’d like to take another look at that girl, if I may.’

He sat down on the edge of her desk and cast his eyes casually over its contents. Humphrey’s diet sheet was still lying there and he picked it up.

‘Good God, who’s this for? A bit drastic, isn’t it? I didn’t know any of my patients were on a diet.’ His eyes were suddenly frosty.

‘They’re not, sir, it’s for me,’ and at his enquiring look: ‘Humphrey thinks I’m overweight…’

Mr Grenfell said strongly: ‘Bunkum and balderdash, does he want you to fade away? You’re perfectly all right as you are.’

Eugenia said seriously: ‘Well, I’m the right weight for my size—you must have noticed that I’m—well, big.’ She sighed. ‘Most women these days are awfully slim, like wands.’

‘So I’ve noticed.’ He tore the diet sheet across and got up. ‘You can tell your Humphrey what I’ve done. Now shall we take a look at this girl—Barbara, isn’t she? Any news as yet as to who stabbed her?’

‘None, sir, and she refused to say a word to anyone about it.’

He grunted deeply to himself, and when they reached the girl’s bed, spent ten minutes there, joined by Harry, who had been warned that his chief was on the ward. Eugenia stood impassively while they examined Barbara, doing everything expected of her with a minimum of fuss. At length Mr Grenfell drew himself up to his great height. ‘I think we’re out of the wood.’ He took Barbara’s hand in his and smiled kindly at her. ‘You’re going to be all right, my dear, although you won’t feel quite yourself for another few days. I’ll see you again in a day or so, and Mr Parker will look after you, together with Sister.’

He turned away with Harry and at the ward door bade Eugenia a polite good morning in a remote manner, leaving her standing there with very mixed feelings. He had behaved in a most high-handed manner, tearing up her diet sheet in that fashion—and what was more vexing, she had had no chance to so much as protest. Truth to tell, he had seemed so different from his usual self that she hadn’t quite known how to take him. Until now she had never taken a lot of notice of him; she had admired him as a surgeon, agreed with everything everyone said about his good looks, even felt a little sorry for him because he seemed, in her eyes, to be marrying the wrong kind of girl, but she had very seldom thought of him as anyone else but a surgeon for whom she worked. Indeed, she could hardly remember an occasion when he had discussed anything else with her but the condition of his patients. She found it vaguely unsettling.

It was a good thing that she didn’t see Humphrey that day, for she hadn’t made up her mind what to say to him; he was going to be put out, even angry, although he was never actually bad-tempered with her. All the same she shied away from having to tell him. And she still had to let him know that she wouldn’t be free on Friday afternoon.

They met the next morning when she was on her way to X-ray and he was coming down from the Medical Wing. He said at once: ‘How’s the diet?’ and smiled in a satisfied way.

‘Well,’ began Eugenia guiltily, ‘I haven’t started it yet, in fact I’m not going to—Mr Grenfell says…’

‘What the hell has Grenfell got to do with it?’ demanded Humphrey so sharply that she stared at him.

‘I’ll explain,’ she said, and did so, making light of the whole thing.

‘He had the nerve to tear my diet sheet up?’ Humphrey usually so pleasant, looked like thunder, and she said smoothly:

‘Well, it doesn’t matter, does it? Such a little thing to fuss over…’

‘I never fuss,’ he reminded her coldly, ‘and it’s not a little thing—’ He looked her magnificent person up and down. ‘If you chose you could be as slim as that lovely girl he was dancing with.’

Eugenia caught her breath. Humphrey had never spoken to her like that before; even if he didn’t mean it, and she was sure that he didn’t, it hurt. At the same time it hardened her resolve to stick to her guns. She said quietly: ‘Don’t be silly, Humphrey. If you don’t love me as I am, you know what to do.’

She turned on her heel and marched off down the corridor.

She was far too busy to give it another thought that day. An elderly woman with multiple chest injuries after a road accident came in before lunch, and needed to be got ready for an emergency operation, and when Mr Grenfell came to examine her, he was wholly concerned with his patient, and so for that matter was Eugenia. And there was a bewildered elderly husband to deal gently with. He drank cup after cup of tea, quite unable to take it all in. ‘She was only popping down the road for the groceries,’ he told Eugenia. ‘She’ll be all right, won’t she?’

Eugenia comforted him and offered him a bed for the night, and phoned sons and daughters who ought to be told. ‘If anyone can get her well, it’ll be Mr Grenfell,’ she assured him, and meant it.

The woman came back from theatre just before supper and Eugenia stayed for a while until the night nurses had got the other patients settled. By the time she got off duty it was too late to meet Humphrey; perhaps that was as well, she mused, going soft-footed through the Hospital towards the nurses’ home; they’d be able to laugh together about the whole thing in the morning. She was in bed, half asleep, when she remembered that she had never told him that she wouldn’t be free on the following afternoon.

CHAPTER TWO

IT WAS dinner time before Eugenia remembered with horror that she hadn’t told Humphrey she wouldn’t be off duty until the evening. She was halfway through her milk pudding when the thought struck her, and she leapt up from the table, to the surprise of her companions.

‘I’ve just remembered,’ she gabbled, and tore off to the porter’s lodge, where she got old Belling to ring the Residents’ flat. Humphrey’s ‘Yes?’ was terse, and then: ‘Oh, it’s you— I’ll be ready in half an hour.’

‘Not me—I won’t, Mr Grenfell’s doing a teaching round and wants me on the ward…’

‘At such short notice? I never…’

‘It’s my fault,’ said Eugenia meekly. ‘I forgot to tell you—he asked me a couple of days ago. You know he always insists on the Ward Sister being there when he’s got students.’

‘You forgot to tell me,’ observed Humphrey nastily. ‘Have I become so unimportant to you? First you ignore my special wishes for you to diet and now you ruin my half day!’ Before she could speak, he added: ‘I shall go home to Mother.’

It was quite unforgivable of Eugenia to giggle; the sound of the phone slammed down in her ear made her realise that. She went back to the ward, feeling guilty, incredibly mean, and at the same time vexed. Humphrey need not have been quite so cross about it—after all, it wasn’t as if they were going to do anything special. Perhaps, she reflected, if they bought something from time to time, it would make their window-shopping more interesting. Her own nest-egg was piling up slowly in the bank, and she had no doubt that his was as well, but there was such a thing as inflation. By the time they actually married, probably they wouldn’t be able to afford the things that he was so anxious that they should have.

Mr Grenfell, with a number of students trailing behind him, arrived, as usual exactly on time, and for the next hour or so she had no thought for anything but her work. Barbara was doing well now, so was Mrs Dunn, and so for that matter was the elderly lady with the chest injuries. He spent a long time with each of them, asking courteous questions of them and waiting, equally courteously, for the students to make observations. There was the usual know-all ready to answer everyone else’s questions as well as his own, the usual slow thinker, who, given enough time, came up with the right answer and would probably in the course of time make an excellent surgeon. There were two women students today; both young and pretty and, Eugenia suspected, more interested in Mr Grenfell than the patients. He was good at getting the best out of them though, disregarding the know-all unless it was his turn, waiting patiently for the slower ones to give their answers, ignoring the two girls fluttering their eyelashes.

Eugenia, at her most professional, with Nurse Sims to back her up, took down dressings, sat patients up and laid them down again, whipped back bedclothes, adjusted drains and handed notes at the exact minute they were required, and doing all these things with a calm friendliness towards the patient so that the alarming sight of half a dozen strange people staring at the bed’s occupant was tolerable after all. Unfortunately it was quite late by the time the round was over. She offered tea, but Mr Grenfell refused politely, dismissing his students with the observation that there were one or two notes he wanted to write. Eugenia led him to the office, handed over the charts he required and beat a retreat. As she reached the door he said quietly: ‘You enjoyed yourself the other evening, Sister?’

She opened the door a little way, having no wish to discuss it with him. ‘Yes, thank you, sir.’

‘But you didn’t stay long?’

‘Well, no. Humphrey had a busy day ahead of him.’ She thought as she said it that Mr Grenfell had had a busy day ahead of him too, but he had been dancing with every sign of enjoyment when they left.

‘Ah, yes, of course,’ said Mr Grenfell smoothly. ‘You were celebrating? Your birthday, perhaps?’

‘Not mine—his.’

She spoke sharply because he was looking at her unsmilingly, although she had the uneasy feeling that he was finding something amusing.

‘Two safely engaged people, aren’t we, Sister?’ He sounded thoughtful. ‘There is, of course, many a slip between the cup and the lip.’

‘We’ve been engaged for eighteen months, sir.’ She said it coldly.

‘Indeed?’ Just as though he didn’t know. ‘So you’ll be marrying very soon?’

‘In two years’ time.’

‘A long time to wait?’ He raised his eyebrows.

‘Humphrey—that is we, want everything bought and paid for before we marry.’

Mr Grenfell drew a large cat with handsome whiskers on her blotting pad. ‘You do? Now that’s something I can’t understand.’

‘I don’t suppose you can,’ said Eugenia tartly. ‘I daresay you have everything you could possibly need and are able to get married when you like.’

‘Oh, indeed, yes.’ He was quite unruffled by her crossness. ‘But that doesn’t mean to say that I shall.’ He added a yachting cap and wellington boots to the cat, admired his handiwork and added a cigar. He looked up to smile at her. ‘Don’t let me keep you from your work, Sister.’

Eugenia flounced out of the office, rather pink in the cheeks. Mr Grenfell was excessively tiresome at times!

Somehow she didn’t see Humphrey during the next day or two, she was off duty on the evening before her days off, and before she left the hospital she went along to the porter’s lodge and asked to see him if he was available. It seemed that he wasn’t; so she left a message, picked up her overnight bag and went to catch her bus. It was a pity she couldn’t have seen him; occasionally he sulked, but she had always been able to get round him; she wasn’t unduly worried, she had no doubt that when she got back to St Clare’s everything would be smoothed over.

It was marvellous being home again. She was welcomed boisterously by the twins, invited to cook supper, and gently greeted with affection by her father. ‘It seems a long time since you were home,’ he commented vaguely.

‘About ten days ago, Father. I quite often have to change my free days. And we’ve been busy.’ She kissed the top of his head. ‘Found any more books lately?’

Supper was delayed while he told her about a splendid copy of Milton’s Paradise Lost which he had unearthed in some small, out-of-the-way bookshop.

Eugenia helped the twins with their homework after supper and then sat with her father in the cosy, shabby sitting room, discussing their future and ways and means; they were clever, the pair of them, bound to go to university, and the money would have to be found somehow. Even with grants there would be expenses. Eugenia said thoughtfully: ‘Well, Father, Humphrey doesn’t want to get married for at least two years; there’s no reason why I shouldn’t use some of the money I’ve saved to help out.’

Her father shook his head. ‘My dear, Humphrey depends on those savings, I daresay.’

‘Oh, he does, but we can wait another year—we shall have waited so long by then that I can’t see that it will matter if there is a little delay.’

‘It’ll matter very much. It’s not my business, Eugenia, but I can’t agree with his ideas at all. You’re both young and he has a good job—you could be quite happy in a small flat for a year or two. You could even go on working for a time.’

‘Yes, I know, I’ve told him that, but he’s set his heart on having just about everything before we marry. And then there’s his mother…’

‘What has she to do with it?’

‘Well, she’s not a very independent person, Father, she does depend on him quite a bit.’

Mr Smith made a derogatory sound. ‘He’s a grown man, a professional man, he has his own life—and your life—to lead, my dear.’

‘Yes—well, I suspect it will all sort itself out.’ She was suddenly weary; she seldom allowed herself to think too deeply about the future; Humphrey had told her so many times that he had it all sewn up and that she wasn’t to worry, so she just let the months slide by—perhaps it needed something drastic to happen to job them out of the rut they seemed to have got into…

It happened on the very morning that Eugenia returned to work. Mr Grenfell strolled into the ward, unexpected and unannounced, stood silently while she removed a chest tube and then followed her still silently down the ward to the sink, waited while she scrubbed her hands and then said: ‘I want to talk to you, Sister Smith.’

Eugenia dried her hands and then led the way to the office. He probably wanted extra beds put up down the centre of the ward, or an emergency to be filtered into an already overflowing list. She sat herself down behind her desk, cast a lightning glance at the clock and asked politely: ‘Yes, sir?’

‘You may not know that from time to time I’m called into consultation in other countries. I’ve been asked if I’ll examine, and if necessary operate on, the wife of a British diplomat in Lisbon. In actual fact they have a villa in the Algarve where she is at the present time. From what I hear from her doctor she has the signs and symptoms of a new growth of lung. If that’s so then surgery is indicated, which I should carry out on the spot. It’s required that I bring a nurse with me, conversant with the treatment of such a case, to see the patient through the first few days and demonstrate to a nurse there exactly what should be done. I should be obliged if you would accompany me, Sister. We should be away for a week if everything is satisfactory, ten days at the most, as I have commitments here. There’s a small private hospital in the area where I should operate and where the patient will remain until she’s convalescent. I imagine you’re capable of demonstrating the post-operative treatment within two or three days, and you would, of course, return with me when I consider the patient to be out of danger.’

Eugenia had sat, her pretty mouth slightly agape, during this lengthy speech. After a moment of silence during which they looked at each other wordlessly, she said: ‘When would you want to go, sir?’

‘Two days’ time, certainly no longer than that. A day sooner, if that could be arranged. I should like your answer now.’

‘How long for? Ten days at the longest, you said…’ She thought rapidly. She was to have spent her next days off with Humphrey’s mother, who she felt sure would take it as a personal insult if anything should prevent that. On the other hand, it was her job—she was there to carry out Mr Grenfell’s instructions, and this was, in effect, an order.

‘What about the ward?’ she asked.

There was a satisfied gleam in Mr Grenfell’s half-closed eyes. ‘I imagine Hatty could cope for a few days. Besides,’ he continued with an entire lack of conceit, ‘I shan’t be operating, so it won’t be all that busy.’

‘Very well, I’ll come with you, Mr Grenfell. Perhaps you’ll let me know when exactly we’re to leave and what I shall require to take with me. I do have a passport valid until the end of the year.’

‘Good. I’ll either see you this evening or send you a note.’ He opened the door he had been leaning against. ‘I’ll arrange things with the Office,’ he told her, and was gone before she could answer him.

Hatty had to be told, of course, and her father telephoned during her dinner hour. But she didn’t say anything to anyone until she was summoned to the Office and given official permission to go with Mr Grenfell.

Over tea in the Sisters’ room she mentioned it, aware that if she didn’t the hospital grapevine would get hold of the news and pass it on, highly distorted.