A Christmas Romance (4 page)

‘Well, if it’s really no trouble. And how much was it?’

‘I can’t remember exactly, but your aunt must have a good idea of what the food costs and the bill seemed very reasonable to me. It’s in the boot with the food or I would let you have it.’

‘No, no. I’m sure it’s all right. And thank you very much.’

He was driving back to the hospital, taking short cuts so that she had still five minutes of her dinner hour left by the time he stopped in the forecourt. She spent two of those thanking him in a muddled speech, smiling at him, full of her delightful lunch and his kindness and worry that she had taken up too much of his time.

‘A pleasure,’ said the professor, resisting a wish to kiss the tip of her nose. He got out of the car and opened her door and suggested that she had better run.

Despite Miss Prescott’s sharp tongue and ill temper, the rest of her day was viewed through rose-coloured spectacles by Theodosia. She wasn’t sure why she felt happy; of course, it had been marvellous getting her shopping
done so easily and having lunch and the prospect of being driven to the aunts’ at the weekend, but it was more than that; it was because the professor had been there. And because he wasn’t married.

She saw nothing of him for the rest of the week but on Friday evening as she left the hospital there was a message for her. Would she be good enough to be ready at ten o’clock in the morning? She would be fetched as before. This time there was no mistaking the twinkle in the head porter’s eye as he told her. Over the years he had passed on many similar messages but never before from the professor.

‘We’re going to the aunts’ again,’ Theodosia told Gustavus. ‘In that lovely car. You’ll like that, won’t you?’

She spent a happy evening getting ready for the morning, washing her hair, examining her face anxiously for spots, doing her nails, and putting everything ready for breakfast in the morning. It would never do to keep the professor waiting.

She went down to the front door punctually in the morning to find him already there, leaning against Mrs Towzer’s door, listening to that lady’s detailed descriptions of her varicose veins with the same quiet attention he would have given any one of his private patients. Mrs Towzer, seeing Theodosia coming downstairs, paused. ‘Well, I’ll tell you the rest another time,’ she suggested. ‘You’ll want to be on your way, the pair of you.’

She winked and nodded at him and Theodosia went pink as she wished them both a rather flustered good morning, trying not to see the professor’s faint smile. But it was impossible to feel put out once she was sitting beside him as he drove off. Indeed she turned and waved to Mrs Towzer, for it seemed wrong to feel so happy while her landlady was left standing at her shabby front door with nothing but rows of similar shabby houses at which to look.

It was a gloomy morning and cold, with a leaden sky.

‘Will it snow?’ asked Theodosia.

‘Probably, but not just yet. You’ll be safely at your great-aunts’ by then.’

He glanced at her. ‘Will you be going to see them again before Christmas?’

‘No, this is an unexpected visit so that I could buy all those things.’ In case he was thinking that she was angling for another lift she added, ‘I expect you’ll be at home for Christmas?’

He agreed pleasantly in a voice which didn’t invite more questions so she fell silent. When the silence became rather too long, she began to talk about the weather, that great stand-by of British conversation.

But she couldn’t talk about that for ever. She said, ‘I won’t talk any more; I expect you want to think. You must have a lot on your mind.’

The professor debated with himself whether he should tell her that he had her on his mind, increasingly so with every day that passed. But if he did he would frighten her away. Being friendly was one thing but he sensed that she
would fight shy of anything more. He was only too well aware that he was considered by her to be living on a different plane and that their paths would never meet. She was friendly because she was a girl who would be friends with anyone. It was in her nature to be kind and helpful and to like those she met and worked with. Even the redoubtable Miss Prescott.

He said now, ‘There is no need to make polite conversation with you, Theodosia; do you not feel the same?’

‘Well, yes, I do. I mean, it’s nice to be with someone and not have to worry about whether they were wishing you weren’t there.’

His rather stern mouth twitched. ‘Very well put, Theodosia. Shall we have coffee at Great Dunmow?’

They sat a long while over coffee. The professor showed no signs of hurry. His questions were casual but her answers told him a great deal. She wouldn’t admit to loneliness or worry about her future; her answers were cheerful and
hopeful. She had no ambitions to be a career girl, only to have a steady job and security.

‘You wouldn’t wish to marry?’

‘Oh, but I would—but not to anyone, you understand,’ she assured him earnestly. ‘But it would be nice to have a husband and a home; and children.’

‘So many young women want a career—to be a lawyer, or a doctor, or a high-powered executive.’

She shook her head. ‘Not me; I’m not clever to start with.’

‘You don’t need to be clever to marry?’ He smiled a little.

‘Not that sort of clever. But being married isn’t just a job, is it? It’s a way of life.’

‘And I imagine a very pleasant one if one is happily married.’

He glanced at his watch. ‘Perhaps we had better get on …’

At the great-aunts’ house Mrs Trickey, in the same hat, admitted them and ushered them into
the drawing room. Aunt Jessica got up to greet them but Aunt Mary stayed in her chair, declaring in a rather vinegary voice that the cold weather had got into her poor old bones, causing her to be something of an invalid. Theodosia kissed her aunts, sympathised with Aunt Mary and hoped that she wasn’t expecting to get free medical treatment from their visitor. She had no chance to say more for the moment since Aunt Jessica was asking Theodosia if she had brought the groceries with her.

The professor greeted the two ladies with just the right amount of polite pleasure, and now he offered to fetch the box of food into the house.

‘The kitchen?’ he wanted to know.

‘No, no. We shall unpack it here; Mrs Trickey can put it all away once that is done. You have the receipted bill, Theodosia?’

‘Well, actually, Professor Bendinck has it. He paid for everything. I hadn’t enough money.’ She could see that that wasn’t enough to satisfy the aunts. ‘We met going out of the hospital. I
was trying to get to the bank to get some money. To save time, because it was my dinner hour, he kindly drove me to Fortnum & Mason and gave them your order and paid for it.’

Aunt Mary looked shocked. ‘Really, Theodosia, a young girl should not take any money from a gentleman.’

But Aunt Jessica only smiled. ‘Well, dear, we are grateful to Professor Bendinck for his help. I’ll write a cheque …’

‘Perhaps you would let Theodosia have it? She can let me have it later. I shall be calling for her tomorrow evening.’

Aunt Mary was still frowning. ‘I suppose you had spent all your money on clothes—young women nowadays seem to think of nothing else.’

Theodosia would have liked to tell her that it wasn’t new clothes, more’s the pity. It was cat food, and milk, bread and cheese, tea and the cheaper cuts of meat, and all the other necessities one needed to keep body and soul together. But she didn’t say a word.

It was the professor who said blandly, ‘I don’t imagine that Theodosia has a great deal of money to spare—our hospital salaries are hardly generous.’

He smiled, shook hands and took his leave. At the door to the drawing room he bent his great height and kissed Theodosia’s cheek. ‘Until tomorrow evening.’ His smile included all three ladies as he followed Mrs Trickey to the front door.

Great-Aunt Jessica might not have moved with the times—in her young days gentlemen didn’t kiss young ladies with such an air, as though they had a right to do so—but she was romantic at heart and now she smiled. It was Great-Aunt Mary who spoke, her thin voice disapproving.

‘I am surprised, Theodosia, that you allow a gentleman to kiss you in that manner. Casual kissing is a regrettable aspect of modern life.’

Theodosia said reasonably, ‘Well, I didn’t allow him, did I? I’m just as surprised as you
are, Aunt Mary, but I can assure you that nowadays a kiss doesn’t meant anything—it’s a social greeting—or a way of saying goodbye.’

And she had enjoyed it very much.

‘Shall I unpack the things you wanted?’ she asked, suddenly anxious not to talk about the professor.

It was a task which took some time and successfully diverted the old ladies’ attention.

The weekend was like all the others, only there was more talk of Christmas now. ‘We shall expect you on Christmas Eve,’ said Aunt Jessica. ‘Around teatime will suit us very nicely.’

That would suit Theodosia nicely, too. She would have to work in the morning; patients still had diets even at Christmas. There would be a tremendous rush getting the diets organised for the holiday period but with luck she would be able to get a late-afternoon train. She must remember to check the times …

In bed much later that night, with Gustavus curled up beside her, she allowed herself to
think about the professor. It was, of course, perfectly all right for him to kiss her, she reassured herself, just as she had reassured her aunts: it was an accepted social greeting. Only it hadn’t been necessary for him to do it. He was a very nice man, she thought sleepily, only nice wasn’t quite the right word to describe him.

It was very cold in church the next morning and, as usual, lunch was cold—roast beef which was underdone, beetroot and boiled potatoes. The trifle which followed was cold, too, and her offer to make coffee afterwards was rejected by the aunts, who took their accustomed seats in the drawing room, impervious to the chill. Theodosia was glad when it was time for her to get the tea, but two cups of Earl Grey, taken without milk, did little to warm her.

She was relieved when the professor arrived; he spent a short time talking to her aunts and then suggested that they should leave. He hadn’t kissed her; she hadn’t expected him to, but he did give her a long, thoughtful look before
bidding his farewells in the nicest possible manner and sweeping her out to the car.

It must have been the delightful warmth in the car which caused Theodosia to sneeze and then shiver.

‘You look like a wet hen,’ said the professor, driving away from the house. ‘You’ve caught a cold.’

She sneezed again. ‘I think perhaps I have. The church was cold, but the aunts don’t seem to mind the cold. I’ll be perfectly all right once I’m back at Mrs Towzer’s.’ She added, ‘I’m sorry; I do hope I won’t give it to you.’

‘Most unlikely. We won’t stop for a meal at Great Dunmow, I’ll drive you straight back.’

‘Thank you.’

It was the sensible thing to do, she told herself, but at the same time she felt overwhelming disappointment. Hot soup, a sizzling omelette, piping hot coffee—any of these would have been welcome at Great Dunmow. Perhaps, despite his denial, he was
anxious not to catch her cold. She muffled a sneeze and tried to blow her nose soundlessly.

By the time they reached the outskirts of London she was feeling wretched; she had the beginnings of a headache, a running nose and icy shivers down her spine. The idea of getting a meal, seeing to Gustavus and crawling down to the bathroom was far from inviting. She sneezed again and he handed her a large, very white handkerchief.

‘Oh, dear,’ said Theodosia. She heaved a sigh of relief at his quiet, ‘We’re very nearly there.’

Only he seemed to be driving the wrong way. ‘This is the Embankment,’ she pointed out. ‘You missed the way …’

‘No. You are coming home with me. You’re going to have a meal and something for that cold, then I’ll drive you back.’

‘But that’s a lot of trouble and there’s Gustavus …’

‘No trouble, and Gustavus can have his supper with my housekeeper.’

He had turned into a narrow street, very quiet, lined with Regency houses, and stopped before the last one in the terrace.

Theodosia was still trying to think of a good reason for insisting on going back to Mrs Towzer’s but she was given no chance to do so. She found herself out of the car and in through the handsome door and borne away by a little stout woman with grey hair and a round, cheerful face who evinced no surprise at her appearance but ushered her into a cloakroom at the back of the narrow hall, tut-tutting sympathetically as she did so.

‘That’s a nasty cold, miss, but the professor will have something for it and there’ll be supper on the table in no time at all.’

So Theodosia washed her face and tidied her hair, feeling better already, and went back into the hall and was ushered through one of the doors there. The room was large and high-ceilinged with a bow window overlooking the street. It was furnished most comfortably, with
armchairs drawn up on each side of the bright fire burning in the steel grate, a vast sofa facing it, more smaller chairs, a scattering of lamp tables and a mahogany rent table in the bow window. There were glass-fronted cabinets on either side of the fireplace and a long case clock by the door.

Theodosia was enchanted. ‘Oh, what a lovely room,’ she said, and smiled with delight at the professor.

‘Yes, I think so, too. Come and sit down. A glass of sherry will make you feel easier; you’ll feel better when you have had a meal. I’ll give you some pills later; take two when you go to bed and two more in the morning. I’ll give you enough for several days.’

She drank her sherry and the housekeeper came presently to say that supper was on the table. ‘And that nice cat of yours is sitting by the Aga as though he lived here, miss. Had his supper, too.’

Theodosia thanked her and the professor said,
‘This is Meg, my housekeeper. She was my nanny a long time ago. Meg, this is Miss Theodosia Chapman; she works at the hospital.’

Meg smiled broadly. ‘Well, now, isn’t that nice?’ And she shook the hand Theodosia offered.

Supper was everything she could have wished for—piping hot soup, an omelette as light as air, creamed potatoes, tiny brussels sprouts and little egg custards in brown china pots for pudding. She ate every morsel and the professor, watching the colour creep back into her cheeks, urged her to have a second cup of coffee and gave her a glass of brandy.