The Awakened Heart

CHAPTER TWO

SO SOPHIE slept, her mouth slightly open, her head lolling on the professor’s shoulder, to be gently roused at Miss Phipps’s door, eased out of the car, still not wholly awake, and ushered into the house.

‘Thank you very much,’ said Sophie. ‘That was a very nice ride.’ She stared up at him, her eyes huge in her tired face.

‘Is ten o’clock too early for you on Saturday?’

‘No. Mabel has to come too…’

‘Of course. Sleep well, Sophie.’

He propelled her gently to the stairs and watched her climb them and was in turn watched by Miss Phipps through her half-open door. When he heard Sophie’s door shut he wished a slightly flustered Miss Phipps good morning and took himself off.

Sophie told herself that it was a change of scene which had made her feel so pleased with life. She woke up with the pleasant feeling that something nice had happened. True, the professor had made some rather strange remarks, and perhaps she had said rather more than she had intended, but her memory was a little hazy, for she had been very tired, and there was no use worrying about that now. It would be delightful to be driven home on Saturday…

Casualty was busy when she went on duty that evening, but there was nothing very serious and nothing at all in the accident room; she went to her midnight meal so punctually that various of her friends commented upon it.

‘What’s happened to you, Sophie?’ asked Gill. ‘You look as though you’ve won the pools.’

‘Or fallen in love,’ said someone from the other side of the table. ‘Who is it, Sophie?’

‘Neither—I had a good sleep, and it’s a quiet night, thank heaven.’

‘If you say so,’ said Gill. ‘I haven’t won the pools—something much more exciting. That lovely man is operating at eight o’clock tomorrow morning. I have offered to lay up for Sister Tucker—’ there was a burst of laughter ‘—just so that everything would be ready for him, and I shan’t mind if I’m a few minutes late off duty.’ She smiled widely. ‘Especially if I should happen to bump into him.’

Joan Middleton, in charge of men’s medical, the only one of them who was married and therefore not particularly interested, observed in her matter-of-fact way, ‘Probably he’s married with half a dozen children—he’s not all that young, is he?’

‘He’s not even middle-aged,’ said Gill sharply. ‘Sophie, you’ve seen him. He’s still quite young—in his thirties, wouldn’t you think?’

Sophie looked vague. ‘Probably.’ She took another piece of toast and reached for the marmalade.

Gill said happily, ‘Well, I dare say he falls for little wistful women, like me…’ And although Sophie laughed with the rest of them, she didn’t feel too sure about that. No, that wouldn’t do at all, she reflected. Just because he had taken her for a drive didn’t mean that he had any interest in her; indeed, it might be a cunning way of covering his real interest in Gill, who, after all, was exactly the type of girl a man would fall for. Never mind that she was the soul of efficiency in Theatre; once out of uniform, she became helpless, wistful and someone to be cherished. Helplessness and wistfulness didn’t sit happily on Sophie.

Sophie saw nothing of the professor for the few nights left before she was due for nights off. She heard a good deal about him, though, for Gill had contrived to waylay him in Theatre before she went off duty and was full of his good looks and charm; moreover, when she went on duty the following night there had been an emergency operation and he was still in Theatre, giving her yet another chance to exchange a few words with him.

‘I wonder where he goes for his weekends?’ said Gill, looking round the breakfast-table.

Sophie, who could have told her, remained silent; instead she observed that she was off home just as soon as she could get changed, bade everyone goodbye, and took herself off.

She showered and changed into a rather nice multi-check jacket in a dark red with its matching skirt, tucked a cream silk scarf in the neck, stuck her feet into low-heeled black shoes, and, with her face carefully made-up and her hair in its complicated coil, took herself to the long mirror inside the old-fashioned wardrobe and had an appraising look.

‘Not too bad,’ she remarked to Mabel as she popped her into her travel basket, slung her simple weekend bag over her shoulder, and went down to the front door. It was ten o’clock, and she didn’t allow herself to think what she would do if he wasn’t there…

He was, sitting in his magnificent car, reading a newspaper. He got out as she opened the door, rather hampered by Miss Phipps, who was quite unnecessarily holding it open for her, bade her good morning, took Mabel, who was grumbling to herself in her basket, wished Miss Phipps good day, and stowed both Sophie and Mabel into his car without further ado. He achieved this with a courteous speed which rather took Sophie’s breath, but as he drove away she said severely, ‘Good morning, Professor.’

‘I suspect that you are put out at my businesslike greeting. That can be improved upon later. I felt it necessary to get away quickly before that tiresome woman began a conversation; I find her exhausting.’

An honest girl, Sophie said at once, ‘I’m not put out; at least, I wasn’t quite sure that you would be here. As for Miss Phipps, I expect she’s lonely.’

‘That I find hard to believe; what I find even harder to believe is that you doubted my word.’ He glanced sideways at her. ‘I told you that I would be outside your lodgings at ten o’clock.’

‘I don’t think I doubted you,’ she said slowly. ‘I think I wasn’t quite sure why you were giving me a lift—I mean it’s out of your way, isn’t it?’

‘I make a point of seeing as much of the English countryside as possible when I am over here.’

She wasn’t sure whether that was a gentle snub or not; in any case she wasn’t sure how to answer it, so she made a remark about the weather and he replied suitably and they lapsed into a silence broken only by Mabel’s gentle grumbling from the back seat.

Sophie, left to her thoughts, wondered what would be the best thing to do when they arrived at her home. Should she ask him in for coffee or merely thank him for the lift and allow him to go to wherever he was going? She had phoned her mother on the previous evening and told her that she was getting a lift home, but she hadn’t said much else…

‘Would you like to stop for coffee or do you suppose your mother would be kind enough to have it ready for us?’

It was as though he had known just what she had been thinking. ‘I’m sure she will expect us in time for coffee—that is, if you would like to stop…’

‘I should like to meet your parents.’ He sounded friendly, and she was emboldened to ask, ‘How long will you be in England?’

‘I shall go back to Holland in a couple of weeks.’

A remark which left her feeling strangely forlorn.

They were clear of the eastern suburbs by now and he turned off on to the road to Chipping Ongar. The countryside was surprisingly rural once they left the main road and when he took a small side-road before they reached that town she said in surprise, ‘Oh, you know this part of the country?’

‘Only from my map. I find it delightful that one can leave the main roads so easily and get comfortably lost in country lanes.’

‘Can’t you do that in Holland?’

‘Not easily. The country is flat, so that there is always a town or a village on the horizon.’ He added to surprise her, ‘What do you intend to do with your life, Sophie?’

‘Me?’ The question was so unexpected that she hadn’t a ready answer. ‘Well, I’ve a good job at St Agnes’s…’

‘No boyfriend, no thought of marriage?’

‘No.’

‘And it’s none of my business…’ he laughed. ‘Tell me, is it quicker to go through Cooksmill Green or take the road on the left at the next crossroads?’

‘If you were on your own it would be best to go through Cooksmill Green, but since I’m here to show you the way go left; there aren’t any villages until we get to Shellow Roding.’

It really was rural now, with wide fields on either side of the road bordered by trees and thick hedges, and presently the spire of the village church came into view and the first of the cottages, their ochre or white walls crowned by thatch, thickening into clusters on either side of the green with the church at one side of it, the village pub opposite and a row of small neat shops.

‘Charming,’ observed the professor and, obedient to Sophie’s instruction, turned the car down a narrow lane beside the church.

Her home was a few hundred yards beyond. The house was old and bore the mark of several periods, its colour-washed walls pierced by a variety of windows. A stone wall, crumbling in places, surrounded the garden, and an open gate to the short drive led them to the front door.

The professor brought the car to a silent halt, and got out to open Sophie’s door and reach on to the back seat for Mabel’s basket, and at the same time the door opened and Sophie’s mother came out to meet them. She was a tall woman, as splendidly built as her daughter, her dark hair streaked with grey, her face still beautiful. Two dogs followed her, a Jack Russell and a whippet, both barking and cruising round Sophie.

‘Darling,’ said Mrs Blount, ‘how lovely to see you.’ She gave Sophie a kiss and turned to the professor, smiling.

‘Mother, this is Professor van Taak ter Wijsma, who has kindly given me a lift. My mother, Professor.’

‘A professor,’ observed Mrs Blount. ‘I dare say you’re frightfully clever?’ She smiled at him, liking what she saw. Really, thought Sophie, he had only to smile like that and everyone fell for him. But not me, she added, silently careless of grammar; we’re just friends…

Mrs Blount led the way indoors. ‘A pity the boys aren’t at home; they’d have loved your big motor car.’

‘Perhaps another time,’ murmured the professor. He somehow conveyed the impression that he knew the entire family well—was an old friend, in fact. Sophie let Mabel out of her basket, feeling put out, although she had no idea why. There was no time to dwell on that, however. The dogs, Montgomery and Mercury, recognising Mabel as a well established visitor, were intent on a game, and by the time Sophie had quietened them down everyone had settled down in the kitchen, a large, cosy room, warm from the Aga, the vast dresser loaded with a variety of dishes and plates, the large table in its centre ringed by old-fashioned wooden chairs. There was a bowl of apples on it and a plate of scones, and a coffee-pot, equally old-fashioned, sat on the Aga.

‘So much warmer in the kitchen,’ observed Mrs Blount breezily, ‘though if I had known who you were I would have had the best china out in the drawing-room.’

‘Professors are ten a penny,’ he assured her, ‘and this is a delightful room.’

Sophie had taken off her coat and come to sit at the table. ‘Do you work together at St Agnes’s?’ asked her mother.

‘Our paths cross from time to time, do they not, Sophie?’

‘I’m on night duty,’ said Sophie quite unnecessarily. She passed him the scones, and since they were both looking at her she added, ‘If there’s a case—Professor van Taak ter Wijsma is a brain surgeon.’

‘You don’t live here, do you?’ asked Mrs Blount as she refilled his coffee-mug.

‘No, no, my home is normally in Holland, but I travel around a good deal.’

‘A pity your father isn’t at home, Sophie; he would have enjoyed meeting Professor van Taak…’ She paused. ‘I’ve forgotten the rest of it; I am sorry.’

‘Please call me Rijk; it is so much easier. Perhaps I shall have the pleasure of meeting your husband at some time, Mrs Blount.’

‘Oh, I do hope so. He’s a vet, you know; he has a surgery here in the village and is senior partner at the veterinary centre in Chipping Ongar. He’s always busy…’

Sophie drank her coffee, not saying much. The professor had wormed his way into her family with ease, she reflected crossly. It was all very well, all his talk about being friends, but she wasn’t going to be rushed into anything, not even the casual friendship he had spoken of.

He got up to go presently, shook Mrs Blount’s hand, dropped a casual kiss on Sophie’s cheek with the remark that he would call for her on Sunday next week about eight o’clock, and got into his car and drove away. He left Sophie red in the face and speechless and her mother thoughtful.

‘What a nice young man,’ she remarked artlessly.

‘He’s not all that young, Mother…’

‘Young for a professor, surely. Don’t you like him, darling?’

‘I hardly know him; he offered me a lift. I believe he’s a very good surgeon in his own field.’

Mrs Blount studied her daughter’s heightened colour. ‘Tom will be home for half-term in a couple of weeks’ time; I suppose you won’t be able to come while he’s here. George and Paul will be here too.’

‘I’ll do my best—Ida’s just back from sick leave; she might not mind doing my weekend if I do hers on the following week. I’ll see what she says and phone you.’

It was lovely being home; she helped her father with the small animals, drove him around to farms needing his help, and helped her mother around the house, catching up on the village gossip with Mrs Broom, who came twice a week to oblige. She was a small round woman who knew everyone’s business and passed it on to anyone who would listen, but, since she wasn’t malicious, no one minded. It didn’t surprise Sophie in the least to hear that the professor had been seen, looked at closely and approved, although she had to squash Mrs Broom’s assumption that she and he had a romantic attachment.

‘Oh, well,’ said Mrs Broom, ‘it’s early days—you never know.’ She added severely, ‘Time you was married, Miss Sophie.’

The week passed quickly; the days weren’t long enough and now that the evenings were closing in there were delightful hours to spend round the drawing-room fire, reading and talking and just sitting doing nothing at all. She missed the professor, not only his company but the fact that he was close by even though she might not see him for days on end. His suggestion of friendship, which she hadn’t taken seriously, became something to be considered. But perhaps he hadn’t been serious—hadn’t he said ‘Nothing serious’? She would, she decided, be a little cool when next they met.

He came just before eight o’clock on Sunday evening and all her plans to be cool were instantly wrecked. He got out of the car and when she opened the door and went to meet him, he flung a great arm around her shoulders and kissed her cheek, and that in full view of her mother and father. She had no chance to express her feelings about that, for his cheerful greeting overrode the indignant words she would have uttered. He was behaving like a family friend of long standing and at the same time combining it with beautiful manners; she could see that her parents were delighted with him.