she hoped he hadn’t seen the tears. ‘Oh, please—and thank you for rescuing him. I thought it quite safe in the yard. I’ll get a little towel…’
The professor took his time; Megan had the chance to wipe her tear-stained cheeks and blow her nose as soundlessly as possible. The only looking-glass was in the tiny shower-room and she had to trust to luck that she looked normal again. She made a mental note to acquire another for the kitchen as soon as possible. She didn’t look normal, she looked woebegone and red about her pretty nose, but the professor refrained from comment, merely remarked that the cat had no bones broken although he was probably badly bruised. He lifted him on to the scarf before the fire and stood up.
‘You’re expecting a guest. I’m sorry if I’ve held things up in the kitchen.’
‘It—it doesn’t matter—he’s not coming. Oscar—there’s a party at the hospital.’ Her lip quivered like a small girl’s. ‘I cooked supper and now there’s only me to eat it all.’ She gave a sniff and added, ‘So sorry…’
The professor took off his coat. ‘Would I do instead? Something smells delicious and I’m very hungry,’ and when she looked doubtful, ‘I had no lunch.’
‘Really? You’d like to stay? But haven’t you a home…?’
‘Yes, yes, of course I have, but there’s no one there this evening.’
He sounded very convincing and he didn’t spoil it by adding anything to that.
‘Well, it would be nice if you stayed. Will your car be all right outside?’
‘I left some boys on guard.’
‘Won’t they get cold?’
‘They’re sitting inside.’ He went to the table and picked up the wine. ‘If you have a corkscrew I’ll open this.’
She went back to the stove and turned the gas on again and presently served the soup. ‘I’m sorry I haven’t anything to offer you—no sherry or whisky—I’m not quite settled in yet.’
‘This soup needs nothing. You made it yourself?’
‘Yes, I like cooking.’ It helped a lot to see the soup, so carefully made with its round of toast and parmesan cheese on top, being eaten with such enjoyment. The lamb chops were eaten too, washed down with the rosé, which the professor drank with every appearance of enjoyment. It was perhaps the first time in his life that he had drunk wine at three pounds twenty-five pence a bottle; the price had been on the cork and he suspected that she had chosen it because it was a pretty colour.
He laid himself out to be pleasant and she was surprised to discover that he was a good companion, not saying much and never raising his voice, but what he said was interesting and had nothing to do with hospital life. Here was a different man from the one who had stared down at the broken dish and raked her with such a cold blue gaze. She discovered suddenly that she was enjoying herself. The cheese and biscuits followed the chops and since there wasn’t much room to sit anywhere else they had their coffee at the table with the plate of cheese scones between them.
Thinking about it afterwards, Megan wasn’t sure what they had talked about; certainly she had learned nothing of the professor’s private life, as she hadn’t dared to ask questions and he had volunteered no information, although he had told her that he had a dog and a cat, but he had only mentioned them casually while he was taking another look at Meredith, lying at his ease before the fire, comfortably full of supper.
Much to her surprise, he had helped her wash up before he had thanked her quietly for his supper and a pleasant evening, not once saying a word about Oscar—she had been grateful for that—and then he had gone out to his car, sent the boys home gleefully clutching small change, and driven himself away, lifting a casual hand as he went.
There was no chance of seeing Oscar the next day. The usual spate of cases were warded and the ward was full again, and it was a good thing, Megan decided, for it would take her a day or two to get over her disappointment at Oscar’s casual treatment. It was two days later before she did see him on her way back from her midday dinner.
‘Sorry about the other evening, Megan,’ he said cheerfully. ‘I knew you would understand. How about tomorrow? I’m off in the evening unless there’s any kind of emergency.’
Megan mentally arranged the off duty. ‘No good—I’m on duty and I’ll be too tired even to open a can of beans.’ She gave him a brilliant smile. ‘Can’t stop—there’s a case going to Theatre. Bye.’
In her office she got out the off-duty book and went in search of Jenny. ‘I particularly want an afternoon off tomorrow; would you mind changing?’
Jenny was only too glad to agree and Megan sailed back to her office, feeling that at least she had got some of her own back. It wasn’t nice of her, she admitted to herself, and indeed she was a kind-hearted and thoughtful girl by nature, but Oscar had upset her, she had to admit, and had made her uneasy. It wasn’t as if they saw a great deal of each other, there was no question of that, and didn’t absence make the heart grow fonder? Or did it?
There was no sign of the professor, but that was quite normal; he seldom came on to the wards and when he did he wasted no time in conversation unless it was of a professional nature. It was quite by chance that she overheard Mr Bright telling Will Jenkins that the professor had gone off to Holland. ‘Won’t be back for a few days,’ grumbled Mr Bright, ‘but I suppose he wants to see his family from time to time.’
So he was married—the thought gave Megan the strange feeling that she had lost something.
Take-in finished and the ward reverted to its normal busy state, without the sudden upheavals of accident cases, and Megan, relenting, spent an evening with Oscar, having a meal at a quiet restaurant near Victoria Park. She enjoyed herself and Oscar was so nice that she felt mean about changing her off duty the week before and when he suggested that he might go to her home with her on her next free weekend she agreed happily.
‘I can get a weekend,’ he pointed out. ‘Heaven knows I’m due for one.’
‘That will be marvellous. Can we go home on Saturday morning and stay until Sunday evening?’
He saw her back to the flat and stayed for ten minutes or so. ‘Not much of a place, is it?’ he pointed out, and she tried not to mind that. She had the new curtains up and cushions to match, fresh flowers and her books on the bookshelves. Even the cat Meredith looked glossy and well fed. A sensible girl, she understood that to a man the flat appeared to lack the comfort and convenience of home, and she contented herself by telling him that she was very happy with it. ‘If I want to go to bed early I can,’ she explained. ‘At the nurses’ home there is always a good deal of noise and people popping in and out and playing their cassettes. You’d be surprised how quiet this street is.’
He laughed and kissed her. ‘Take care; you’ll be turning into a regular old maid unless you look out!’
‘That’s easily remedied. We could get married.’ She didn’t know why she had said that and she regretted it when she saw his frown.
‘Time enough to talk about that when I’ve finished here and applied for another post,’ he told her, and, because he saw that she was feeling awkward, added another kiss to the one that he had already given her.
Megan, left alone, turned the divan into a bed, put on a kettle for a cup of tea and brushed Meredith’s coat. He was filling out nicely and since his accident had prudently stayed in the back yard. He scoffed the saucer of milk she offered him now and composed himself for sleep before the fire, although the minute she turned out the light and got into bed he would creep stealthily on to the end of it and stay there all night.
It was several days later that she saw the professor again. She was going off duty after an exceptionally busy day and she was tired and cross and a little untidy. He and Mr Bright were standing in the entrance hall, deep in some discussion; Mr Bright looked up and called a cheerful, ‘Goodnight, Sister Rodner,’