LITMIR.BIZ

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by the anaesthetic trolley.

      She left the patient in the care of the theatre staff and sped back to Cas. The young man and Ned had joined forces over their tea. Ned said, ‘Ward the little girl, will you, ducky, and I’ll fix a taxi for Mr Eyffert.’

      She came back to find Ned impatient to finish the diehards on the benches, and the younger Mr Eyffert on the point of departure. He wished her goodbye, thanked her charmingly and hoped to see her again, and it warmed her to think that he really meant it. He explained, ‘I’d like to stay, but Julius told me to go round to the hotel.’ Apparently Julius gave the orders and expected them carried out. She shook his sound hand and said soothingly, ‘That’s a fine idea; a good night’s sleep will do you a world of good. I’m sure Professor Eyffert will let you know how things go.’

      ‘Lord, yes. You see, the accident wasn’t my fault, but I am to blame. I decided to come to town for the evening and the kids got into the back of the car for a lark, so I brought them with me for the ride.’ He saw her astonished eyebrows. ‘I know it sounds silly. It was. Julius wiped the floor with me, and I deserved it.’ He laughed suddenly. ‘Poor chap, saddled with four children and me—but he’s a wonderful guardian.’

      Georgina felt a peculiar lifting of her spirits. ‘Guardian? I thought he was their father.’

      He laughed again, ruefully. ‘He’s not had much chance to think about getting married. Well, so long, Staff Nurse. I shall see you again.’

      She agreed lightly, aware that it was unlikely—nearly all patients said that. She didn’t see the Professor again, either. He had called in on his way back from theatre while she was at her meal and expressed regret at missing her. She was surprised to find that she minded not seeing him again very much, but she was far too busy to ponder the matter.

      She called in to the children’s unit on her way off duty in the morning. Beatrix was sitting up in bed, eating her breakfast; rather battered but apparently none the worse for her experience, and delighted to see her. Cornelis had regained consciousness an hour or two earlier and Georgina was invited to go along and see him. His eyes were closed; his face looked small and white and lonely on the pillow, as though it had nothing to do with the two legs in their Thomas’s splints.

      ‘They made a good job of them,’ commented the staff nurse who was with Georgina. ‘Sliding traction—they were both nice clean breaks. He’ll be as good as new in a few months’ time.’

      He opened his eyes then, and asked, just as his sister had done, ‘Who are you?’

      ‘Hullo, Cornelis. I saw you last night when you were brought here.’

      He nodded, staring at her. ‘I like you. What’s your name?’

      ‘Georgina Rodman.’

      ‘Mine’s Cornelis van den Berg Eyffert. You may call me Cor if you like.’ He added, ‘I shall call you George,’ and added again, very politely, ‘That’s if you don’t mind.’

      There was no need to reply, for he had dropped off to sleep again. George went back to Beatrix and reiterated her promise to see her again, then ran downstairs to the dining-room, where she ate her meal rather dreamily without contributing greatly to the conversation. She was wondering if she would ever see Professor Eyffert again, and even if she did, whether he would remember her. In the No Man’s Land of muddled thoughts before she slept, she remembered that the children had called him Julius. A nice name, she thought sleepily, for a nice man. She slept.

      CHAPTER THREE

      SHE WENT every evening and morning to see the two children. Cor didn’t talk a great deal, unless it was to ask endless questions as to how long it would be before he could walk again, but Beatrix would sit up in bed, her face wreathed in smiles, and chatter for as long as she was allowed. It was from her that Georgina heard that her guardian had been every day to see them, and that she was to go home the next day, although Cor would have to stay.

      ‘Will you come and see Cor when he’s left behind?’ she wanted to know.

      ‘If he wants me to, of course I’ll come,’ said Georgina.

      ‘Julius said you would,’ said the little girl, ‘but I just wanted to make sure.’

      Georgina let out a suddenly held breath. So he hadn’t forgotten her! She smiled, then frowned at her silliness in supposing that he remembered her in any other context than that of nurse.

      She said goodbye to the little girl with real regret; she would herself be going on nights off in two days’ time, but Cornelis would still be there when she returned. She explained this carefully to him, and was astonished at the storm of protest it triggered off. Only by promising to write to him every day was she able to calm him down to coherency.

      ‘You’ll have your guardian to see you,’ she observed in conciliating tones, ‘and your other—er—uncle.’

      ‘He’s not my uncle, he’s my stepbrother,’ said the huffy little voice from the bed.

      She looked surprised. ‘Oh, is he? I thought that he—they—were both your uncles.’

      ‘You’ll listen carefully if I explain?’

      ‘Of course.’ She willed herself to stay awake and interested, while she longed above all things to get a meal and go to bed for an hour or two before going home.

      ‘Well, it’s like this, you see. Cousin Julius’s mother and Karel’s mother were sisters; only Cousin Julius’s mother was almost grown up when Karel’s mother was still a little girl … and she married Julius’s father and he was Dutch. Her sister—my mother—died when Beatrix was born. My father was married before he married my mother—to Karel’s mother …,’ he broke off. ‘You do see, don’t you?’

      Georgina blinked. ‘Yes, I think so. But you’ve all got the same name.’

      He eyed her with youthful scorn. ‘Well, of course. My father and Cousin Julius’s father were brothers.’

      She gathered woolly wits together. ‘Two brothers married two sisters. But why do you live in England if you are Dutch?’

      ‘We live in Holland sometimes. My father lived in England for years; his first wife was English. Cousin Julius says we’re all half and half. So are Franz and Dimphena.’

      Georgina stifled a yawn. ‘So stupid of me—I feel I should know who they are.’

      ‘My brother and sister, of course; Franz is twelve and Dimphena is almost grown-up—she’s sixteen.’ He eyed her through the ordered tangle of cords and pulleys fastened to the Balkan frame over his bed. ‘Are you sleepy?—your eyes are closed.’

      She smiled, ‘I am, I’m afraid, but thank you for explaining so clearly about your family—are they all as nice as you and Beatrix?’

      ‘You’ve met Cousin Julius—he’s super, absolutely wizard.’ He seemed to feel that this was sufficient answer. She thought tiredly that it would be interesting to know more about Julius, but as she wasn’t likely to see him again, there wasn’t much point in pursuing that train of thought. She got off the side of the bed, where she shouldn’t have been sitting anyway, bade him goodbye and went, very late, to the dining-room.

      She got home at teatime. The fragrance of buttered crumpets filled the little house as she closed the front door behind her. She breathed it in and sighed contentedly. She had six days of freedom.

      It was incredible how the days flew by. On one of them, she coaxed Jim Bale to lend her the car and took Aunt Polly for a gentle drive, suppressing a great desire to go to Debden and look for Dalmers Place. Instead, she turned the car’s nose in the direction of Elmdon, where Great-Aunt Polly had a friend. The two old ladies gossiped gently over their tea, and Georgina left them together and went for a stroll past the Tudor cottages with their carved bargeboards and elaborate plaster bands, and went into the church and peered at Tudors perpetrated for ever on its brasses. They were very

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