feel so depressed, she supposed.
She took a Panadol with her coffee presently and her head cleared, so that the rest of the list passed off smoothly enough even though they finished late. The Professor might be a stickler for punctuality, she reflected, going down to a warmed-up dinner, but he forgot that there was such a thing as time once he was scrubbed.
The afternoon list with the fourth consultant, Mr Reeves, an elderly man on the verge of retirement, went well. Rachel handed over to Norah just after five o’clock, and went off duty. An early night, she told herself, trying to ignore the hope that Melville would phone her. A quiet evening somewhere, perhaps outside London, where they could have a meal and talk without the constant greetings and interruptions from his friends. Rachel sighed as she got out of her uniform and pottered off to look for an empty bathroom.
But he didn’t phone; she took a long time changing into a knitted suit and then, unwilling to spend an evening in the sitting-room with the other sisters, thrust some money into a purse, and went down to the entrance. She wasn’t at all sure what she was going to do—perhaps a run in the car…
She was getting out her car key when Professor van Teule loomed up beside her. ‘Ah,’ he said sleepily. ‘Going out, Rachel?’
‘Yes—no. I don’t know,’ she almost snapped at him. ‘I just want to get away for an hour.’ She added by way of explanation, ‘It’s a nice evening.’
He took the key from her in his large hand, picked up her purse from the car’s bonnet where she had laid it, and put the key into it.
‘You sound undecided. Moreover, you don’t look in a fit state to drive a car. I’m going for a quiet potter—why not come with me? We can eat somewhere quiet and you can doze off in peace.’
She had to laugh. ‘It’s kind of you to suggest it, Professor, but I couldn’t go to sleep; it would be rude…’
‘Not with me, it wouldn’t. You need a nap badly, Rachel. You’re wound up too tightly; don’t you know that? No sign of, er, Melville?’
‘You always say “er, Melville”, as though you can’t remember his name,’ she said crossly.
‘Well, I can’t.’ He sounded reasonable. Really, it was impossible to be put out by him.
‘He’s a very busy man.’
The Professor, hardly idle himself, nodded understandingly. ‘If you had a quiet evening out of town, you’d be as fresh as a daisy in the morning and ready to go dancing again when he asks you.’
She stood looking up at him. He was kind and friendly in an impersonal way and it sounded tempting, to be driven into the country for an hour.
She asked abruptly, ‘Why do you ask me?’
‘You run the theatre block very efficiently, Rachel, and to do that you have to be one hundred per cent fit; my motive is purely selfish, you see.’
She found that his answer disappointed her. ‘Well, thank you, I’ll come, only I would like an early night.’
‘Don’t worry, I’ll see that you’re back by ten o’clock at the latest. I shall want to take a quick look at that young man later on, anyway.’
The Rolls was ultra-comfortable; she sat back with an unconscious sigh and the professor suggested, ‘Why not close your eyes until we’re clear of London? I’ll wake you once there is something worth seeing.’
‘Don’t you like London?’ she asked. Somehow she had pictured him, when she had bothered to think about him at all, as a man about town, wining and dining and going to the theatre; having smart friends.
‘No. Close your eyes, Rachel.’
She closed them and, although she hadn’t meant to, went to sleep at once.
He had turned off the motorway at Maidenhead before he woke her up.
‘There’s rather a nice pub by the river at Mouls-ford—the Beetle and Wedge—we’ll bypass Henley and go across country. It’s charming scenery and it’s still light.’
Rachel, much refreshed by her nap, sat up. ‘Sorry I went to sleep, but I feel fine now.’
‘Good. I hope you’re hungry—I am.’
He talked easily as they drove through the country roads and after a while arrived at the Beetle and Wedge. It was an old inn surrounded by trees and with plenty of garden around it. And it was cosy and welcoming inside. They sat by the log fire in the bar and had leisurely drinks and then dined generously; here they hadn’t heard of crudités. There was water-cress soup with a lavish spoonful of cream atop, followed by steak and kidney pie which melted in the mouth, and even more generous portions of vegetables. Rachel polished off the home-made ice cream she had chosen and drank the last of the claret the Professor had ordered—a very nice wine, she had observed, and he had agreed gravely; a vintage 1981 Chêteau Léoville-Lascases should be nice. He had no doubt that she would be thunderstruck if she knew what it cost.
They had coffee round the fire in the pleasantly filled bar and, true to his word, when she suggested rather diffidently that she would like an early night, he got up at once, paid the bill and settled her in the car. This time he took the main road through Henley and then on to Maidenhead and the motorway, so that they were back at the hospital minutes before ten o’clock.
It was unfortunate, to say the least of it, that Melville should have been getting into his car as Rachel got out of the Professor’s.
The Professor shut the car door behind her and she heard him say, ‘Oh, dear, dear,’ in an infuriatingly mild voice. She felt his reassuring bulk behind her as Melville left his car and came towards them.
‘Rachel? I came to take you out for a drink.’ He smiled but his eyes were angry. ‘But I see that someone else had the same idea.’ He gave the Professor an angry look.
‘Ah, Mr-er-Grant, isn’t it? Good evening. My dear fellow, how vexing for you. We have been for a run into the country. Rachel has had a busy day and so have I. We return considerably refreshed.’ He smiled gently and made no move to go away.
Rachel touched Melville on his coat sleeve. ‘Melville, I’m so sorry to have missed you. You didn’t phone—I had no idea.’
‘You’re not the only one who’s had a busy day.’ Melville’s voice held a sneer. ‘Well, I’ll be on my way—I’ll see you some time.’
He was going, probably out of her life for ever. Rachel swallowed panic. ‘Melville, I’ve said I’m sorry. If only you had let me know… Can’t we go somewhere and have a drink now?’
‘I left a desk full of work to come and see you,’ declared Melville dramatically. ‘I’ll go back and finish it.’
‘Look, can’t we talk?’ asked Rachel desperately and glanced round at the Professor, hoping that he might take the hint and leave them alone. He returned her look with a placid one of his own and she saw that he had no intention of doing that. There he stood, saying nothing, silently watching and not being of the least help. She said again, ‘Melville…’ but that gentleman turned without another word and went back to his car, got in and drove away.
‘He’ll ruin that engine,’ observed the Professor, ‘crashing his gears like that.’
‘Who cares about his gears?’ asked Rachel wildly. ‘He’s gone and I don’t suppose he’ll ever come back.’
‘Oh, yes he will, Rachel. There is nothing like a little healthy competition to keep a man interested; something which I’m sure you know already. Not, I must hasten to add, that in fact there is competition, but, there is no harm in letting, er, Melville think so.’
‘Don’t be absurd,’ snapped Rachel, and then, ‘Do you really think so? You don’t think he’s gone forever?’
Her voice shook a little at the idea.