A Christmas Romance

He walked up to her desk, tore the diet sheet he held into several pieces and laid them on the blotter before her. He said quietly, ‘Miss Prescott, I have no time to waste with people who go against my orders. The diet is to be exactly as I have asked for. You are a dietician, but you have no powers to overrule the medical staff’s requests for a special diet. Be so good as to remember that.’

He went quietly out of the room, leaving Miss Prescott gobbling with silent rage. Theodosia studied her alarmingly puce complexion. ‘Shall I make a cup of tea?’

‘No—yes. I’m upset. That man …’

‘I thought he was rather nice,’ said Theodosia, ‘and he was very polite.’

Miss Prescott ground her teeth. ‘Do you know who he is?’

Theodosia, putting teabags into the teapot, said that no, she didn’t.

‘Professor Bendinck. He’s senior consultant on the medical side, is on the board of governers, has an enormous private practice and is an authority on most medical conditions.’

‘Quite a lad!’ said Theodosia cheerfully. ‘Don’t you like him?’

Miss Prescott snorted. ‘Like him? Why should I like him? He could get me the sack today if he wanted to.’ She snapped her mouth shut; she had said too much already.

‘I shouldn’t worry,’ said Theodosia quietly. She didn’t like Miss Prescott, but it was obvious that she had had a nasty shock. ‘I’m sure he’s not mean enough to do that.’

‘You don’t know anything about him,’ snapped Miss Prescott, and took the proffered cup of tea without saying thank you. Theodosia, pouring herself a cup, reflected that she would rather like to know more about him …

The day was rather worse than Monday had been, and, letting herself into her bed-sitter that evening, she heaved a sigh of relief. A quiet evening with Gustavus for company …

There was another letter from her aunts. She was invited to spend the following weekend with them. They had read in their newspaper that the air in London had become very polluted—a day or two in the country air would be good for her. She was expected for lunch on Saturday. It was more of a command than an invitation and Theodosia, although she didn’t particulary want to go, knew that she would, for the aunts were all the family she had now.

The week, which had begun badly, showed no signs of improving; Miss Prescott, taking a jaundiced view of life, made sure that everyone around her should feel the same. As the weekend approached Theodosia wished that she could have spent it quietly getting up late and eating when she felt like it, lolling around with the papers. A weekend with the great-aunts was hardly restful. Gustavus hated it—the indignity of the basket, the tiresome journey by bus and train and then another bus; and, when they did arrive, he was only too aware that he wasn’t really welcome, only Theodosia had made it plain that if she spent her weekends with her great-aunts then he must go too …

It was Friday morning when, racing round the hospital collecting diet sheets from the wards, Theodosia ran full tilt into the professor, or rather his waistcoat. He fielded her neatly, collected the shower of diet sheets and handed them back to her.

‘So sorry,’ said Theodosia. ‘Wasn’t looking where I was going, was I?’

Her ginger head caught fire from a stray shaft of winter sunshine and the professor admired it silently. She was like a spring morning in the middle of winter, he reflected, and frowned at the nonsensical thought.

‘Such a rush,’ said Theodosia chattily. ‘It’s always the same on a Friday.’

The professor adjusted the spectacles on his nose and asked, ‘Why is that?’

‘Oh, the weekend, you know, patients going home and Sister’s weekend, too, on a lot of the wards.’

‘Oh, yes, I see.’ The professor didn’t see at all, but he had a wish to stay talking to this friendly girl who treated him like a human being and not like the important man he was. He asked casually, ‘And you, miss … er … Do you also go home for the weekend?’

‘Well, not exactly. What I mean is, I do have the weekend off, but I haven’t got a home with a family, if that’s what you mean. I’ve got quite a nice bed-sitter.’

‘No family?’

‘Two great-aunts; they have me for weekends sometimes. I’m going there tomorrow.’

‘And where is “there”?’ He had a quiet, rather deliberate voice, the kind of voice one felt compelled to answer.

‘Finchingfield. That’s in Essex.’

‘You drive yourself there?’

Theodosia laughed. ‘Me? Drive? Though I can ride a bike, I haven’t a car. But it’s quite easy—bus to the station, train to Braintree and then the local bus. I quite enjoy it, only Gustavus hates it.’

‘Gustavus?’

‘My cat. He dislikes buses and trains. Well, of course, he would, wouldn’t he?’

The professor agreed gravely. He said slowly, ‘It so happens that I am going to Braintree tomorrow. I’d be glad to give you and Gustavus a lift.’

‘You are? Well, what a coincidence; that would be …’ She stopped and blushed vividly. ‘I didn’t mean to cadge a lift off you. You’re very kind to offer but I think I’d better not.’

‘I’m quite safe,’ said the professor mildly, ‘and since you didn’t know that I would be going to Braintree in the morning you could hardly be accused of cadging.’

‘Well, if you don’t mind—I would be grateful …’

‘Good.’ He smiled then and walked away and she, remembering the rest of the diet sheets, raced off to the men’s ward … It was only as she handed over the rest of the diet sheets to Miss Prescott that she remembered that he hadn’t asked her where she lived nor had he said at what time he would pick her up. So that’s that, reflected Theodosia, scarcely listening to Miss Prescott’s cross voice.

If she had hoped for a message from him during the day she was to be disappointed. Five o’clock came and half an hour later—for, of course, Miss Prescott always found something else for her to do just as she was leaving—Theodosia raced through the hospital, intent on getting home, and was brought up short by the head porter hailing her from his lodge in the entrance hall.

‘Message for you, miss. You’re to be ready by ten o’clock. You’ll be fetched from where you live.’

He peered at her over his spectacles. ‘That’s what Professor Bendinck said.’

Theodosia had slithered to a halt. ‘Oh, thank you, Bowden,’ she said, and added, ‘He’s giving me a lift.’

The head porter liked her. She was always cheerful and friendly. ‘And very nice too, miss,’ he said. ‘Better than them trains and buses.’

Theodosia, explaining to Gustavus that they would be travelling in comfort instead of by the public transport he so disliked, wondered what kind of car the professor would have. Something rather staid, suitable for his dignified calling, she supposed. She packed her overnight bag, washed her hair and polished her shoes. Her winter coat was by no means new but it had been good when she had bought it and she consoled herself with the thought that winter coats didn’t change their style too much. It would have to be the green jersey dress …

At ten o’clock the next morning she went down to the front door with Gustavus in his basket and her overnight bag over her shoulder. She would give him ten minutes, she had decided, and if he didn’t turn up she would get a bus to Liverpool Street Station.

He was on the doorstep, talking to Mrs Towzer, who had a head crammed with pink plastic curlers and a feather duster in one hand. When she saw Theodosia she said, ‘There you are, ducks; I was just telling your gentleman friend here that you was a good tenant. A real lady—don’t leave the landing lights on all night and leaves the bath clean …’

Theodosia tried to think of something clever to say. She would have been grateful if the floor had opened and swallowed her. She said, ‘Good morning, Mrs Towzer—Professor.’

‘Professor, are you?’ asked the irrepressible Mrs Towzer. ‘Well, I never …’

Theodosia had to admire the way he handled Mrs Towzer with a grave courtesy which left that lady preening herself and allowed him to stuff Theodosia into the car, put her bag in the boot, settle Gustavus on the back seat with a speed which took her breath and then drive off with a wave of the hand to her landlady.

Theodosia said tartly, ‘It would have been much better if I had gone to the hospital and met you there.’

He said gently, ‘You are ashamed of your landlady?’

‘Heavens, no! She’s kind-hearted and good-natured, only there really wasn’t any need to tell you about turning off the lights …’

‘And cleaning the bath!’ To his credit the professor adopted a matter-of-fact manner. ‘I believe she was paying you a compliment.’