‘Yes.’ He gave her arm a little shake. ‘You imagined that I would do that without sending you a message? Don’t be absurd!’

They were in the car now and she turned to look at him and observe in a kindly tone: ‘Not absurd, you know. You had enough to think of without bothering your head about me.’ She smiled at him. ‘I can’t think why you should.’

‘I’ll tell you why,’ he ground out, and then in his usual cool voice: ‘But not now.’ He started the car without another word.

The Veskes had been very nice about it, Britannia decided as she got ready for bed that evening; they had asked the professor in for a drink, expressing discreet sympathy with her, murmuring comfortably about difficulties with language and misunderstandings. He had stayed for half an hour making polished conversation before making his farewells, not that he had bothered overmuch with his goodbyes to her; a nod, a casual tot ziens and her thanks shrugged off carelessly. And come to think of it, he hadn’t bothered to thank her for the part she had played that morning. She tugged the covers up to her chin on a wave of indignation. He was arrogant and ill-tempered and just about the horridest man she had ever met, and she loved him with all her heart. All the same, she would cut him dead when she saw him again. She began to concoct episodes in which he was made to appear in a very poor light while she ignored him coolly, but presently she got a little muddled and before she could sort out the muddle, was asleep.

CHAPTER FOUR

THE PROFESSOR called the next afternoon and Britannia quite forgot to be cool and ignore him. Joan had gone off for the day directly after breakfast and now, after a morning shopping with Mevrouw Veske and a lunch à deux, she had got into slacks, a thick sweater and an old anorak of her hostess’s and was on her way to fetch her bike. The weather was hardly promising, but Britannia was in no mood to bother about that; she was wondering how she could find out where the professor lived and if possible, despite her determination to ignore him, see him again, so that the sight of him striding towards her round the corner of the house sent her spirits soaring. She stood outside the garage, holding the bike, watching him coming towards her. Beautifully turned out, as always, assured, far too good-looking… She wished him a quiet good afternoon, and waited.

‘I thought we might try again,’ he said.

The urge to fling her machine to the ground and accept on the instant was very great. She clutched the handlebars with woolly gloved hands and said politely: ‘How kind of you. But as you see, I’m just off for a ride.’

He didn’t bother to answer her but took the bike from her, leaned it against the garage wall and took her arm. ‘It’s too cold to cycle. I’ve warned Zuster Vinke that you would be coming.’

Britannia stopped in her tracks to face him. ‘That was a little high-handed of you,’ she pointed out.

He grinned. ‘I am high-handed, I shout, I’m nasty, ill-tempered, irritable…I forget the rest, although you have told me often enough.’ He gave her a little shake. ‘I have never been preached at so often in my life before.’

Britannia raised large, serious brown eyes to his. ‘Oh, I don’t mean to, really I don’t; you’re a splendid surgeon…’

‘And so are thousands of others. Britannia, I’m sorry about yesterday. I was angry because I didn’t know where you were, and I was angry with myself for not having done something about it. Forgive me and come with me now.’

‘Well, I’m not dressed…’ she began, already half won over.

‘You look just the same as usual,’ he assured her, and even while she was trying to decide if that was a compliment or not, he had her by the arm, walking her briskly along the drive to the waiting car.

There was nothing to interrupt their journey to Arnhem this time and the professor whiled away the short journey in light conversation, revealing a new facet of himself to Britannia. She had had no idea that he could be such an amusing and pleasant companion; it wouldn’t last, of course; sooner or later he would get into a fine rage about something or other. It was extraordinary, she mused, that one could love someone so much even when they scowled and frowned and stared down with cold blue eyes…

‘I was saying,’ said her companion with exaggerated patience, ‘that I hope to be finished by four o’clock. Zuster Vinke will be told when I am ready.’

Such arrogance, she thought lovingly, but she could alter that. Her ‘Very well,’ was meek.

Zuster Vinke turned out to be a big bony woman, with shrewd eyes behind thick glasses and a nice smile. And her English was more than adequate; she led Britannia from one ward to the next, finishing in the Children’s Ward where Britannia was shown the small girl the professor had saved. She was sitting up in bed, playing quite happily with a doll. The pebble had been removed, she was told; as soon as the tracheotomy had healed the child would go to a convalescent home and then back to the isolated little cottage which was her home. It was while they were with her that they were joined by one of the doctors who had met them outside the hospital. Young and tall and nice-looking, he introduced himself as Tom van Essent. ‘And of course I know who you are,’ he told her eagerly. ‘You were a great help to the professor, so he tells us; without your help the child would have died. It is a pleasure to meet you. You are staying long in Holland?’

‘Under a week—not long enough.’ Britannia smiled at him, quite ready to like him because he worked for the professor.

‘Perhaps if you are not too occupied, I might take you out to dinner one evening?’

‘Well, that would be nice, thank you, I’d like that. Could you telephone me some time?’ She gave him Mevrouw Veske’s number and then, because Zuster Vinke had been called to the telephone and came back with the news that the professor would be ready in five minutes, she went with him back to the entrance hall, with Zuster Vinke striding along on her other side. They were standing together, laughing and talking, when they were joined by the professor, who, making no effort to make a cheerful fourth, bade her two guides a curt goodbye, asked her grumpily if she was ready to leave, and walked out of the hospital at a great rate, with Britannia having to nip along smartly to keep up. In the car, sliding smoothly away from the hospital, he asked: ‘You found your visit interesting? I see that young van Essent was with you.’ It was coolly and carelessly said, but she thought she detected annoyance as well.

‘Oh, he met us just before we returned to the entrance—in the Children’s Ward—and he walked down with us. I liked Zuster Vinke and it’s a splendid hospital. And how nice to see little Tinneke sitting up playing with a doll.’ She turned to look at him. ‘Doesn’t it give you a nice feeling each time you see her?’

He shot the Rolls through a knot of traffic. His voice was bland. ‘Perhaps I haven’t your youthful enthusiasm, Britannia.’

‘Oh, stuff, of course you have, otherwise you wouldn’t be a surgeon, you’d retire to your villa or whatever and mope and moulder away the rest of your days.’

A reluctant smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. ‘Put like that I must admit your argument is a strong one. You liked van Essent?’

‘Oh yes. He’s young, though.’

‘And what do you mean by that?’

‘Just what I said—he made me think of my younger brother.’

‘Ah—so you have brothers. And a sister perhaps?’

‘No, only my brothers.’

‘And parents?’

‘Yes.’ Really, he asked a lot of questions! ‘And what about you…?’

‘I am touched by your interest in me, but there is nothing of interest to tell you.’