LITMIR.BIZ

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be a great deal of chatter and requests for drinks of water, and little tempers as well as tears, but they would sleep eventually and they had loved every minute of it. She looked around her, reflecting how strange it was that a few paper hats and balloons could create a party for a child.

      He turned away. ‘I shall see you here at seven o’clock in the evening, on the day after tomorrow,’ he reminded her, and before she could ask how they were to go to Holland, he had gone, large and quiet, and very quickly.

      She spent two busy days at home; there was a great deal she would have liked to discuss with Sybil, but somehow Aunt Martha always seemed to be with them, and beyond a few safe commonplaces about her work, she could say very little. Only when they had gone to bed, Sybil had come along to her room and sat on the bed and demanded to know if everything was all right.

      Phoebe nodded. ‘I think so—you were quite right, Doctor van Someren is absentminded, but only sometimes. He’s a splendid doctor though. I expected him to be older —he seems older than he really is, I think, but only when he’s worried. I like the work …’

      Sybil interrupted her happily. ‘There, didn’t I say that it was a good thing when you agreed to go instead of me? And I bet you’re far better at it than I should ever be. How are you going to Holland?’

      ‘I don’t know—I’ve been told to go to the hospital tomorrow evening at seven o’clock, that’s all. What clothes shall I take?’

      It was well after midnight before this knotty problem was solved to their entire satisfaction. Phoebe, remembering the doctor’s gentle remark that he hoped that she wouldn’t have too much luggage, decided to take one case, a small overnight bag and her handbag—a stout leather one capable of holding everything she was likely to need en route. The overnight bag she stuffed with night things, and as many undies as she could cram into it, and the case she packed under Sybil’s critical eye with uncrushable cotton dresses, sandals, two colourful swimsuits, a sleeveless jersey dress in a pleasing shade of blue, a very simple dress in strawberry pink silk and, as a concession to a kindly fate, a pastel patterned party dress which could be rolled into a ball if necessary and still look perfection itself.

      This task done, she felt free to wish her sister good night and go to bed herself. Not that she slept for several hours; her mind was too full of her job, and woven in and out of her more prosaic thoughts was the ever-recurring reflection that she was pleased that she would be seeing a good deal more of Doctor van Someren during the next few weeks.

      The morning was taken up with last-minute chores and a discussion about the wedding, coupled With a strong reminder from Aunt Martha to make very sure that she returned home for it. She was thinking how best to settle this matter when her taxi drew up outside the hospital entrance and she stepped out. There was no one about. Through the glass doors she could see the head porter’s back as he trod ponderously in the direction of the covered way at the back of the hall—perhaps she should go after him and find out … She actually had her hand on the door when Doctor van Someren said from behind her:

      ‘Good evening, Miss Brook. You are rested, I hope? If you would come with me?’

      It annoyed her that she felt flustered. She wished him a good evening in her turn in a rather cool voice and followed him to the hospital car park.

      They stopped beside a claret-coloured Jaguar XJ 12 and she tried to conceal her surprise, but her tongue was too quick for her. ‘My goodness,’ she exclaimed, ‘is this your?’

      He looked faintly surprised. ‘Yes—you didn’t tell me that you disliked travelling by car. It is the simplest way …’

      ‘Oh, I don’t—I love it. Only she’s so splendid and she took my breath I didn’t expect … And I’m sure it’s the simplest way, only I don’t know which way that is.’

      He put down her case and bag the better to give her his full attention. ‘Did I not tell you how we should be travelling?’

      She shook her head.

      ‘Dear me —you must forgive me. By car, of course. We shall load it on to the Harwich boat and drive to Delft from the Hoek when we land in the morning. You are a good sailor?’

      ‘Yes—though I’ve only crossed to Calais twice. We nearly always went by plane, and I loathed it.’

      ‘We?’ he prompted her gently.

      ‘My mother and father and s …’ she stopped just in time, ‘me,’ she added lamely, and felt her cheeks warm, but he didn’t seem to notice and she drew a relieved breath. How fortunate it was that he wasn’t an observant man, only with his patients. He picked up her case and put it in the boot, already packed with books and cases and boxes—no wonder he had hoped that she wouldn’t bring too much luggage with her.

      It was extraordinary how many times during their journey to Harwich that she had to stop to think before she replied to his casual questions. She hadn’t realised before how often one mentioned one’s family during the course of even the most ordinary conversation; she seemed to be continually fobbing him off with questions of her own about his work, their journey, details of the hospital where she would be working—anything, in fact, but her own home life. It was a relief when he slid the car to a halt in the Customs shed, a relief tempered with regret, though, because he was a most agreeable companion and she had found herself wishing that she could have told him all about Sybil and Nick, and her own part in the deception they were playing upon him. When she had consented to take Sybil’s place she hadn’t thought much about the other people involved; now she found that it mattered quite a lot to her.

      They had a meal on board and Phoebe talked feverishly about a dozen subjects, taking care not to mention her home or her family, and the doctor made polite comments upon her sometimes rather wild statements, and didn’t appear to be aware of the fact that she repeated herself upon occasion, but as soon as they had had their coffee, he observed pleasantly: ‘I expect you would like to go to your cabin, Miss Brook,’ and stood up as he said it, so that there was nothing else for her to do. Besides, he had a briefcase with him; he was already opening it when she looked back on her way out of the restaurant.

      Possibly, she thought crossly, he had been dying for her to go for hours past. She undressed slowly and hung her oatmeal-coloured dress and jacket carefully away so that they would be creaseless and fresh in the morning. ‘Not that it would matter,’ she told herself, getting crosser. ‘If I wore hot pants and a see-through blouse he wouldn’t notice!’

      She lay down on her bunk, determined not to go to sleep so that she would be able to tell him that she had spent an uncomfortable night—no, not uncomfortable, she corrected herself—it was a delightful cabin, far more luxurious than she had expected, certainly first class and on the promenade deck. It surprised her that the hospital authorities were willing to spend so much money on a nurse. She would have been just as comfortable sharing a cabin with another girl, although she doubted if she would have had the cheerful services of the stewardess who promised tea at six o’clock and begged her to ring her bell should she require anything further. With difficulty Phoebe brought her sleepy mind back to Doctor van Someren; it would be nice if she were to see a great deal of him in hospital—presumably she would be working on one of his wards, but perhaps he would leave the actual instruction to one of the more junior members of his team. She frowned at the idea and went to sleep.

      She slept all night and, much refreshed by her tea, dressed, did her face and hair with care and went along to join the doctor for breakfast, looking as though she had slept the clock round and spent several leisurely hours over her toilette. His eyes, very bright beneath the arched colourless brows, swept over her and then blinked lazily. He wished her a good morning, hoped she had slept well and begged her to sit down to breakfast, something she was only too glad to do. Coffee and toast would be delightful, but the ship seemed to be a hive of activity and they had already docked; perhaps he hadn’t noticed. She mentioned it diffidently, to be instantly reassured by his easy: ‘I have a theory that it is quicker to be last off the ship.’ A remark which, it turned out, was perfectly true, for by the time they had finished, the last of the passengers were leaving the ship and the

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