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flight, of course. Don’t bother about money—I’ll see to that, but remember your passport. We shall fly straight to the Algarve and be met at the airport, examine the patient during the evening and again in the morning, and if it’s necessary arrange to operate that same day. You’ll probably be very busy; not much time to sleep and no time off.’ He started for the door. ‘Anything else you want to know?’

      Quite a bit, she thought, but as none of it was relevant to their actual journey there seemed little point in giving utterance to them. She said: ‘No, I think not, sir,’ and added, ‘Goodnight,’ and he nodded briefly and went.

      Eugenia sat down again and made a list of what she would need to take with her. And then, of course, there was the question of telling Humphrey. He might be a bit sticky, she reflected, although he had no reason to be. All the same he would have to be told, and as soon as possible. She was off duty that evening, and he might be free for an hour or so; they might go to a pub for something in a basket instead of supper in the hospital.

      Later that evening she had neither seen nor heard from him, so as she went off duty she went along to the porter’s lodge and asked old Evans to find out where he was.

      “ere yer are, Sister,’ said Evans, and handed her the receiver.

      Humphrey was free for the evening, and from the sound of his voice, still on the sulky side.

      ‘A drink and a sandwich?’ suggested Eugenia. ‘I’ve got something to tell you.’

      ‘Well, if it’s important,’ he agreed grudgingly.

      They met an hour later in the entrance hall and she could see at once that he was still sulking. Her heart sank, and she spent the ten minutes’ walk to the pub getting him into a good humour again. Over their chicken and chips in a basket and beer, she took heart and told him. The chicken and chips hadn’t been enough; she watched him grow remote, sorry for himself and finally critical. ‘I can’t think why you have to go,’ he observed coldly. ‘There are plenty of other nurses—your staff nurse, for instance. What’s so special about you?’

      ‘Nothing, only I know his routine inside out and the nurse there will have to be shown what to do. Why are you making a fuss, Humphrey?’

      He said with dignity: ‘I am not in the habit of making a fuss, Eugenia. I merely remarked that I can’t see the need for you to go. Have you accepted?’

      ‘Yes,’ said Eugenia calmly.

      ‘Without consulting me?’ He was definitely sulking again.

      ‘Well, Humphrey, I didn’t see the need for that. After all, I’m going on a nursing job, not a weekend at Brighton. And we’re not married, you know.’

      ‘We are engaged,’ he reminded her, ‘and I expect my wishes to be observed whenever possible.’ He added, to make her quite savage, ‘Mother wouldn’t like it at all.’

      Eugenia swallowed rage and hurt and annoyance. ‘Humphrey, I’m sorry if you’re annoyed about it—I never imagined you would be. And I can’t think why.’ She asked in a conciliatory voice: ‘Don’t you like Mr Grenfell?’

      ‘That’s beside the point,’ said Humphrey loftily. ‘You’re going against my wishes.’

      ‘How can I be doing that?’ she asked reasonably. ‘When Mr Grenfell asked me you didn’t know anything about it.’

      ‘You can at times be a very stubborn young woman, Eugenia. However, we’ll say nothing more about it. Presumably you’ll be back in time to spend the weekend we’d arranged with Mother?’

      Her heart sank at the very thought, but she said gently: ‘Of course, dear. Mr Grenfell said a week, and our weekend is still a fortnight away.’

      ‘I wouldn’t want to disappoint Mother,’ said Humphrey repressively. ‘If you’ve finished, we might as well be getting back to St Clare’s—I have a busy day ahead of me.’

      ‘So have I,’ said Eugenia, faintly waspish.

      Sitting beside Mr Grenfell in his Turbo Bentley, being whisked towards Heathrow on the following afternoon, Eugenia wondered how on earth she had managed to be where she was. The ward had been extra busy, one of the part-time nurses hadn’t turned up, Barbara had started running a temperature, and she had been at odds with the diet clerk as well as X-ray—not a good day, and she had gone off duty wishing she had never agreed to go with Mr Grenfell. She showered and changed, shut the one small case she was taking with her, checked her handbag for money and passport, and went down to the hospital entrance. He had been waiting for her, and after the briefest of greetings had put her case in the boot, ushered her into the front seat and got in beside her. And now here she was, a little edgy and tired, wishing she hadn’t come. Humphrey had been right, as he so often was; she should have told him first before agreeing to go and taken his advice.

      ‘Cold feet?’ asked Mr Grenfell, hitting the nail on the head so accurately that she jumped.

      ‘Yes. Humphrey didn’t want me to come…’

      He swooped past an articulated lorry. ‘Why not?’ He sounded interested, but only in a vague way.

      ‘Well, I don’t know—he didn’t say.’ She added thoughtfully: ‘Perhaps because we’re engaged…’

      ‘I’m engaged,’ observed Mr Grenfell carelessly, ‘and as far as I know Miriam had no qualms.’

      ‘Didn’t you ask her?’ Eugenia was curious.

      ‘Certainly not. She has no interest in my work, indeed she finds it extremely boring.’

      She had a momentary picture of him going home after a day’s successful operating, bursting to tell someone about it, and not being able to say a word. Fleetingly she was sorry for him. She said carefully: ‘Well, I daresay it’s restful for you not to talk about your work when you get home.’

      ‘Bunkum,’ said Mr Grenfell. They were driving through the complexities of the airport now and a moment later he stopped outside Terminal Two. ‘This is where we get out.’

      There was a man waiting to take the car, presumably to garage it. Mr Grenfell picked up her case, handed his own and his case of instruments to a porter; and walked briskly into the booking hall. The formalities, which she had been rather dreading, took no time at all. She was ushered upstairs, told to sit down and not walk away until he returned. Which he did presently, with two cups of coffee and an armful of magazines and papers.

      ‘About twenty minutes before our flight is called,’ he told her, and opened The Times.

      He didn’t hurry when their flight was called, so that Eugenia became quite nervous about missing the plane altogether and longed to tell him to hurry up. They were some of the last to go on board, and she was secretly pleased that they were in the first class compartment. Not that she could see much difference between that and the rest of the plane, only it would sound so much better when she told everyone about it when she got back.

      She didn’t much care for flying, but since Mr Grenfell’s impassive face betrayed no emotion whatsoever, she took care to sit very still, her insides knotted up, her hands clasped together on her lap.

      ‘You can unwind now,’ said Mr Grenfell laconically, ‘we’re airborne.’ She had no intention of answering him, but gave him what she hoped was a cool smile and began on the pile of magazines, to be interrupted very shortly by the stewardess with food and drink. She wasn’t particularly hungry, but it passed the time very nicely and made everything so normal that she peeped out of her window into the dusk below. It was quite a surprise when they were asked to fasten their seat-belts because they were about to land; it was even more surprising when Mr Grenfell, who had barely spoken throughout the flight, took her hand in one of his large firm ones, and held it comfortingly until they were safely on the ground.

      They were met at the airport, and since there were not many passengers Customs formalities took only a few minutes. The Customs officer was young and

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