LITMIR.BIZ

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a useful remark and quite without truth. Never mind, though, tell me about tomorrow—do you check us in as we arrive? Presumably we are expected to go to the hospital main entrance …’

      She would have liked to have argued with him but he hadn’t given her the chance. Besides, she mustn’t forget that he was a visiting specialist, to be treated with respect. ‘No need for that,’ she told him. ‘You can use the door we came through this evening. I’ll be at the desk in the reception area, ticking off names.’

      ‘Then what do you do?’

      ‘Go to the kitchen and make sure that coffee and biscuits are ready, there’s a buffet lunch at one o’clock, I’ll have to see to that, and then the clearing-up afterwards and there’s tea at four o’clock.’

      ‘You have help, of course?’

      ‘Oh, yes, I’m just there to see that everything is going smoothly.’

      She finished the bombe glacé with a small sigh of content and he ordered coffee.

      ‘Do you see much of young Derek?’

      ‘Almost nothing, only if we happen to be at home at the same time and that’s seldom. Is he a friend of yours? I mean, aren’t you a bit …?’ She stopped and went pink and he finished smoothly,

      ‘Old for him. Of course I am; my father was a friend of his father. I’ve known the family on and off for a long time.’

      ‘I didn’t mean to be rude, I’m sorry.’

      He shook his head slowly. ‘Two apologies in less than half an hour, Beatrice. Don’t do it again or I might have to alter my opinion of you.’

      He passed his cup for more coffee and began to talk about her brother.

      It was after eleven o’clock by the time he stopped the car by the passage door. ‘You’re not supposed to park here,’ said Beatrice as he got out.

      She might have saved her breath for he took no notice, but opened the door and followed her inside.

      ‘Thank you for a very pleasant evening,’ said Beatrice politely. ‘It was most kind of you. Goodnight, Professor van der Eekerk.’

      He began to walk up the stairs beside her and she said, ‘There’s no need.’

      ‘Hush, girl, save your breath for the climb.’ So she hushed since there was little point in arguing with him and at her door he took the key from her and stood aside to let her in and then went ahead of her to turn on the lights before wishing her a quiet goodnight and going down the stairs two at a time in what she considered to be a highly dangerous manner.

      She stood in the middle of the room reflecting that when she had been taken out for the evening she had always been thanked for her company and been given to understand that her companion had enjoyed it—Professor van der Eekerk, on the other hand, hadn’t said any such thing.

      She had a bath and got ready for bed feeling peevish. ‘There will be no need to speak to him tomorrow,’ she told herself, and thumped her pillows into comfort. ‘I dare say he only asked me out because he wanted company at the dinner-table and I happened to be handy.’

      She went to sleep, having quite forgotten about Tom.

      The learned gentlemen attending the seminar began to arrive soon after half-past eight and Beatrice was kept busy ticking their names off her list, helping the more elderly out of their coats and scarves, finding mislaid notes, spectacles and cough lozenges and ushering them into the conference hall, a gloomy place filled with rows of uncomfortable chairs, its walls painted a particularly repellent green and having a small platform at one end on which was a table, half a dozen chairs and, since Beatrice found the place so bleak, a bowl of hyacinths on the table, flanked by a carafe of water and a glass.

      The first speaker was Professor Moore, still suffering from his cold and by no means in the best of tempers. Once he had arrived his colleagues started to file into the hall, stopping to greet friends as they went and taking their time about it. Beatrice looked at her list; there were still half a dozen to come …

      They came in a group and one of them was Professor van der Eekerk, towering over his companions. She noticed that he appeared to be on the best of terms with all of them, and, like them, greeted her with a polite good morning before going into the hall. She wasn’t sure what she had expected; all she knew was that she felt disappointed. She watched his massive back disappear through the door and told herself that she had no wish to see him again. A wish she was unable to fulfil, for, the first paper having been duly read and discussed, the distinguished audience surged out of the hall and into one of the smaller lecture-rooms where coffee and biscuits awaited them. Still deep in talk, they received their cups and saucers in an absentminded fashion, and Beatrice, making her way from one group to another with some of the biscuits, was sure that Professor van der Eekerk was unaware of her being there, deep as he was in discussion with several other doctors. She was wrong, of course. His heavy-lidded gaze followed her around the room without apparently doing so and when she was at last back behind the coffee percolators, refilling the cups her helpers fetched, all she could see of him was his back in a superbly tailored suit.

      The second paper to be read before lunch started late, which meant that it finished late. Beatrice, pacifying the cook, wished the erudite and wordy gentleman on the platform to Jericho, going on and on about endocrinology. When he at length came to an end she lost no time in urging his audience to repair to the smaller lecture hall once more and ladled soup to be handed round without loss of time while the cook seethed over the lamb cutlets, ruined, she assured Beatrice.

      Ruined or not, they were eaten; indeed, the various conversations were so engrossing that she doubted if anyone had noticed what was on their plates. She portioned out castle puddings with a generous hand and went to make sure that the coffee percolators were ready.

      The afternoon session was to be taken up by a paper on haematology by Professor van der Eekerk and, contrary to the previous lecturer, she hoped that he would take a long time delivering it; it would give them time to clear the room once more and put out the tea things—sandwiches, buttered buns and fruit cake. Having some considerable experience of similar occasions, she knew what got eaten and what got left.

      Ready and with time to spare, she took a discreet peep through the not quite closed doors of the lecture hall. Professor van der Eekerk was well into his subject: haemolytic anaemia, jaundice, the Rh factor and a lot of long words which meant nothing to her. She opened the door a little wider and listened. He had a deep voice, rather slow, and with only a trace of an accent. She poked her head round the door and he looked straight at her. Without a pause he went on, ‘Now polycythaemia is an entirely different matter …’

      Beatrice withdrew her head smartly. He had appeared to look at her but the hall was large and she had been right at the back of it. She thought it unlikely that he had noticed her. She glanced at her watch; he was due to finish in five minutes, so she and her helpers started to carry the plates of food in. With luck, no one would linger over tea, for they would all be anxious to go home. She sighed. They would be back again tomorrow.

      Her hopes were dashed. They sat over their tea, drinking second and third cups and eating everything in sight. ‘Like a swarm of locusts,’ said the cook crossly, cutting up yet another cake. ‘And’ ow they can eat and drink and talk about blood beats me though I must say ‘e ‘oo did the talking is something like. Wouldn’t mind ‘aving a lecture from ‘im.’ Beatrice, bearing the cake, was stopped by the senior medical consultant of the hospital. ‘Very nice, Miss Crawley, organised with your usual finesse. We are a little behind time, I fancy, but Professor van der Eekerk’s paper was most interesting. We look forward to his second talk tomorrow. Is that more cake? Splendid.’ He beamed at her. ‘A delightful tea—most enjoyable.’

      They all went at last; Beatrice sent the part-time helpers home, spent a brief time with the cook checking the menu for the next day, assured her that she could manage on her own and, once left to herself, emptied the dishwasher and began to put out coffee-cups and saucers, spoons and sugar basins ready

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