Caroline's Waterloo. Бетти Нилс
do about it.’
Caro managed a smile. ‘I’ll be fine—I’ll let you know when I’m coming.’
They all shook hands with her rather solemnly. ‘We’re going quite early and the Professor said we weren’t to disturb you in the morning.’
Caroline lay quietly after they had gone, too tired to feel much. Indeed, when the Professor came in later and gave her a sedative she made no demur but drank it down meekly and closed her eyes at once. It must have been quite strong because she was asleep at once, although he stayed for some time, sitting in his chair watching her, for once neither reading nor writing.
She didn’t wake until quite late in the morning, to find Noakes’ wife—Marta—standing by the bed with a small tray. There was tea again and paper-thin bread and butter and scrambled egg which she fed Caro with just as though she were a baby. She spoke a little English too, and Caro made out that her friends had gone.
When Marta had gone away, she lay and thought about it; she felt much more clear-headed now, almost herself, but not quite, otherwise she would never have conceived the idea of getting up, getting dressed, and leaving the house. She couldn’t stay where she wasn’t welcome—it was like her uncle all over again. Perhaps, she thought miserably, there was something about her that made her unacceptable as a guest. She was on the plain side, that she already knew, and perhaps because of that she was self-effacing and inclined to be shy. She had quickly learned not to draw attention to herself, but on the other hand she had plenty of spirit and a natural friendliness which had made her a great number of friends. But the Professor, she felt, was not one of their number.
The more she thought of her scheme, the more she liked it; the fact that she had a considerable fever made it seem both feasible and sensible, although it was neither. She began, very cautiously, to sit up. Her head ached worse than ever, but she ignored that and concentrated on moving her injured leg. It hurt a good deal more than she had expected, but she persevered until she was sitting untidily on the edge of the bed, her sound foot on the ground, its stricken fellow on its edge. It had hurt before; now, when she started to dangle it over the side of the bed, the pain brought great waves of nausea sweeping over her.
‘Oh, God!’ said Caro despairingly, and meant it.
‘Perhaps I will do?’ The Professor had come softly into the room, taking great strides to reach her.
‘I’m going to be sick,’ moaned Caro, and was, making a mess of his beautifully polished shoes. If she hadn’t felt so ill she would have died of shame, as it was she burst into tears, sobbing and sniffing and gulping.
The Professor said nothing at all but picked her up and laid her back in bed again, pulling the covers over her and arranging the cradle just so over her injured leg before getting a sponge and towel from the adjoining bathroom and wiping her face for her. She looked at him round the sponge and mumbled: ‘Your shoes—your lovely shoes, I’m so s-sorry.’ She gave a great gulp. ‘I should have gone with the others.’
‘Why were you getting out of bed?’ He didn’t sound angry, only interested.
‘Well, I thought I could manage to dress and I’ve enough money, I think—I was going back to England.’
He went to the fireplace opposite the bed and pressed the brass wall bell beside it. When Noakes answered it he requested a clean pair of shoes and a tray of tea for two and waited patiently until these had been brought and Noakes, accompanied by a maid, had swiftly cleared up the mess. Only then did he say: ‘And now suppose we have a little talk over our tea?’
He pulled a chair nearer the bed, handed her a cup of tea and poured one for himself. ‘Let us understand each other, young lady.’
Caroline studied him over the rim of her cup. He talked like a professor, but he didn’t look like one; he was enormous and she had always thought of professors as small bent gentlemen with bald heads and untidy moustaches, but Professor Thoe van Erckelens had plenty of hair, light brown, going grey, and cut short, and he had no need to hide his good looks behind a moustache. Caro thought wistfully that he was exactly the kind of man every girl hoped to meet one day and marry; which was a pity, because he obviously wasn’t the marrying kind…
‘If I might have your full attention?’ enquired the Professor. ‘You are sufficiently recovered to listen to me?’
Her head and her leg ached, but they were bearable. She nodded.
‘If you could reconcile yourself to remaining here for another ten days, perhaps a fortnight, Miss Tripp? I can assure you that you are in no fit condition to do much at the moment. I shall remove the stitches from your leg in another four days and you may then walk a little with a stick, as from tomorrow, and provided your headache is lessening, you may sit up for a period of time. Feel free to ask for anything you want, my home is at your disposal. There is a library from which Noakes will fetch a selection of books, although I advise you not to read for a few days yet, and there is no reason why you should not sit in the garden, well wrapped up. You will drink no alcohol, nor will you smoke, and kindly refrain from watching television for a further day or so; it will merely aggravate your headache. I must ask you to excuse me from keeping you company at any time—I am a busy man and I have my work and my own interests. I shall of course treat you as I would any other patient of mine and when I consider you fit to travel, I will see that you get back safely to your home.’
Caro had listened to this precise speech with astonishment; she hadn’t met anyone who talked like that before—it was like reading the instructions on the front of a medicine bottle. She loved the bit about no drinking or smoking; she did neither, but she wondered if she looked the kind of girl who did. But one thing was very clear. The Professor was offering her hospitality but she was to keep out of his way; he didn’t want his ordered life disrupted—which was amusing really; now if it had been Clare or Stacey or Miriam, all pretty girls who had never lacked for men friends, that would have been a different matter, but Caroline’s own appearance was hardly likely to cause even the smallest ripple on the calm surface of his life.
‘I’ll do exactly as you say,’ she told him, ‘and I’ll keep out of your way—you won’t know I’m here. And thank you for being so kind.’ She added: ‘I’m truly sorry about me being sick and your shoes…’
He stood up. ‘Sickness is to be expected in cases of concussion,’ he told her. ‘I am surprised that you, a nurse, should not have thought of that. We must make allowances for your cerebral condition.’
She looked at him helplessly. Underneath all that pedantic talk there was a quite ordinary man; for some reason, the professor was concealing him. After he had gone she lay back on her pillows, suddenly sleepy, but before she closed her eyes she decided that she would discover what had happened to make him like that. She must make friends with Noakes…
She made splendid progress. The Professor dressed her leg the next morning and when Marta had draped her in a dressing gown several sizes too large for her, he returned to lift her into a chair by the open window, for the weather was glorious and the view from it delightful. The gardens and the house were large and full of autumn colours, and just to lie back with Marta tucking a rug over her and settling her elevenses beside her was bliss. She had been careful to say very little to the Professor while he attended to her leg; he had made one or two routine remarks about the weather and how she felt and she had answered him with polite brevity, but now he had gone and despite his silence, she felt lonely. She sipped the warm milk Marta had left for her and looked at the view. The road was just visible beyond the grounds and part of the drive which led to it from the house; presently she heard a car leaving the house and caught a glimpse of it as it flashed down the drive: an Aston Martin—a Lagonda. The Professor must have a friend who liked fast driving. Caro thought that it might be rather fun to know someone who drove an Aston Martin, and even more fun to actually ride in one.
She was to achieve both of these ambitions. The Professor came as usual the following morning after breakfast to dress her leg, but instead of going away immediately as he usually did he spoke to Juffrouw Kropp who had accompanied him and then addressed himself to Caro.
‘I