His ‘Hullo, feeling better?’ was laconic, but his examination of her foot was meticulous and very gentle. He hadn’t quite finished when Britannia asked: ‘Please will you telephone Mijnheer Veske? If someone could lend me a dressing gown he could take me to Arnhem…’
‘And what do you propose to do in Arnhem?’ the professor wanted to know without bothering to look at her.
‘Well, get this strapped, then…’
‘I believe that I am still capable of strapping an ankle.’ His voice was silky.
‘Oh, I’m sure you are,’ soothed Britannia. ‘What I mean is, I wanted to get away from here—at least, I don’t want to, if you see what I mean, but it would be so much nicer for you.’
‘You have a quite nasty contusion over your left eye, probably a little concussion as a consequence, which would account for your muddled conversation.’
Indeed her head did ache; she had done her best and she suspected that her ankle would become even more painful before it was strapped. ‘I don’t feel quite the thing,’ she admitted.
‘That is hardly surprising.’ He sounded austere. ‘I am going to strap that ankle. It is a sprain. I was able to take a look at it while you were in a faint. Tomorrow you will go to the hospital and have an X-ray of it, and also of your head.’
‘But I’m going home—all the arrangements…’ Her tired head whirled at the very thought.
‘Leave the arrangements to me. You’ll not be going home for a few days. And now let us attend to your ankle.’
Britannia lay still, willing herself not to let out so much as a squeak of pain. She clasped Emmie’s kind hand and squeezed it hard, and when the professor had finally done, thanked him in a trembly voice.
She got a grunt in reply and an injunction to drink the tea which would be fetched to her and then to go to sleep. ‘There’s nothing much wrong with your head that a good sleep won’t cure,’ remarked the professor with impersonal kindness.
She opened her eyes to look at him, leaning over the end of the bed, staring at her. ‘Then I don’t need to have it X-rayed tomorrow—I’ve put you to enough trouble.’
‘And probably will put me to a great deal more.’ He nodded carelessly and went to the door, and Emmie drew up a chair and sat down by the bed. It didn’t matter that she couldn’t speak a word of English; she helped Britannia to drink her tea, shook up her pillows for her and then held her in a comfortable embrace while she cried her eyes out. She felt better after that and went to sleep almost at once, her head, very tousled, still against Emmie’s plump shoulder.
She woke hours later to a darkened room lighted by a bedside lamp, by which the professor was reading. He looked up almost immediately and came to the bed, took her pulse, looked at her pupil reactions, turned her head gently to examine the great bruise colouring one side of it and asked: ‘How do you feel, Britannia?’
She studied his face before she replied. His calm expression gave no hint as to his feelings. She sighed: ‘Not at all bad, thank you. My head feels much better—my ankle’s a bit painful but quite bearable. What’s the time?’
‘Two o’clock. Emmie has some soup for you, you will drink it and go to sleep again.’
‘Two…but you ought to be in bed, you’ll be tired out in the morning.’
There was the glimmer of a smile on his face. ‘I shall go to bed very shortly. Here is Emmie.’
The housekeeper looked even cosier than she did by day, wrapped in a thick woollen dressing gown. She bore a small tray upon which was a pipkin of soup, a dazzling white napkin and a glass of lemonade. The soup smelled delicious and Britannia’s pinched nose wrinkled in anticipation. The professor stood, book in hand, one long finger marking his place, while Emmie arranged Britannia’s pillows, tucked the napkin under her chin, removed the pipkin’s lid and offered her the soup. Only when Britannia had taken the first spoonful did he go to the door and with a quiet ‘Goodnight, Britannia,’ go out of the room. Undoubtedly he was annoyed at her having to be in his house at all. He was a good host and a good surgeon so she would receive nothing but courtesy and the best of attention while she was there, but that was all. Her lip quivered and tears filled her lovely eyes and she put the spoon down, to be at once comforted by Emmie’s ‘Nou, nou,’ and the offer of a clean handkerchief. ‘Drink,’ commanded Emmie with kindly firmness and Britannia picked up her spoon once more. She drank down the lemonade too because her attendant expected her to, but by then she was feeling tired again and her head was aching. She had barely thanked Emmie before she was asleep again.
It was daylight when she awoke for the second time, the curtains drawn to show a bright morning, a fire crackling in the steel grate. Britannia sat up cautiously and looked around her. She felt much better. There would be no need for her to be X-rayed and she would say so; she would also have to find out what had happened to Joan and whether she was to get back to the Veskes that morning…and when would she be able to go back to England? She closed her eyes and frowned, then opened them again to have a good look at the room she was in.
It was a large, airy room, with two tall windows draped in rose pink silk, a colour echoed in the bed-cover of quilted chintz and the upholstered armchairs, the furniture was painted white picked out with gilt and the floor was carpeted in a soft misty blue, very restful to the eye. A charming room, and luxurious. Britannia closed her eyes once more and wondered what could be the time. She opened them almost at once, though, because someone was knocking at the door, and in answer to her ‘Come in’, Mevrouw Luitingh van Thien entered.
‘Good morning, my dear,’ she said, and smiled. ‘Jake told me to wait until you were awake before giving you your breakfast. I’m glad to see that you have slept. Emmie is coming in a few minutes with tea and toast for you—he said to give you nothing more than that until you have been to hospital. He will be back for you at ten o’clock.’
‘Oh—I was going to ask him if I need be X-rayed. I feel so much better.’
The professor’s parent shook her elegant head. ‘Oh, I shouldn’t do that if I were you.’ She sat herself down in a chair close by the bed. ‘One must always do as one’s doctor says.’
Britannia was on the point of saying that the professor wasn’t her doctor anyway, but stopped herself in time because it might have sounded rude. Instead she thanked her companion for her kindness in offering her shelter for the night.
Mevrouw Luitingh van Thien looked surprised and then laughed. ‘But, my dear child, it had nothing to do with me, this is Jake’s house. I stay with him from time to time, that is all. When he left this morning he put you into my care and I am more than happy to do what I can for you. I have three daughters of my own, you know, they are all married and I can assure you that when they are all here with their husbands and children, it is indeed a houseful, something Jake enjoys very much.’
‘Does he?’ cried Britannia in surprise. ‘I thought—that is, he never seems…’
Mevrouw Luitingh van Thien’s features relaxed into a smile again. ‘No, he doesn’t does he?’ she agreed. ‘And yet he loves children and his home and family.’
‘He told me that he was something of a hermit,’ said Britannia indignantly.
‘Well, so he is, if by that he means that he doesn’t have a busy social life or escort a variety of young women to some night club or other far too often.’ The lady’s tone made it plain what she thought of night clubs. ‘He enjoys a pleasant life; he has a great many friends and he loves his work, as you have no doubt seen for yourself.’ She broke off to say: ‘Ah, here is Emmie, I will leave you to enjoy your breakfast. When you have finished, she will help you to dress.’
It was only when she was at the door that Britannia remembered to ask: ‘I quite forgot to ask you. What did Mevrouw Veske say? And has Joan, my friend, you know—gone back?’