Esmeralda Part 8

"I'm sorry if you had to wait--will you stay for coffee?" She smiled brightly as she spoke. Something wasn't right--she had been so happy when she had seen him there, waiting for her, but now she wasn't so sure. Perhaps he felt awkward at meeting her again, or because he hadn't written. She went on: "Thanks for the telegram."

For a moment he looked as though he had no idea what she was talking about.

"Oh, the telegram--we've been busy. This is a nice room, they've done you proud."

She sat down by the open window and waved him to the other chair.

"They're all very kind and the nurses are dears."

Esmeralda had tucked her foot under the long full skirt of her robe; surely he was going to ask her about it? But instead, there was an awkward pause so that she felt forced to relieve the constraint between them with small talk. Only when she at length came to a standstill did Leslie ask reluctantly: "Well, how's this marvelous foot?"

"Super!" She hadn't meant to sound so eager, but she hadn't been able to help herself. She thrust the awkward plastered thing out for his inspection.

It was discoloured still, the scar showed red and raw and the pins stuck out from the tops of her toes like nightmare nails; not a nice sight, but not an unusual one for an orthopaedic surgeon to see, so that his: "Good G.o.d, what a filthy mess!" shook' her mightily.

"The pins are coming out in three days," she offered, 'and it's been a great success. When the plaster's off I'll be able to walk and run and dance. "

"I wouldn't count on that," Leslie said lightly, and got up.

"Well, I must be off, Esmeralda."

She stared at him, astonished, not believing her ears.

"Back to Trent's? But you've only just got here--did you come for the day?

But surely...?"

She was interrupted by the opening of the door and the entry of a tall, good-looking girl in a floor-length cotton dress, rows of beads and a preposterous leather hat a-top dark flowing hair. This vision glanced at her, smiled perfunctorily and remarked: "Oh, there you are, darling--no, it's no use you looking at me like a thundercloud. You said fifteen minutes at the most, and it's more than half an hour--1 got bored."

She transferred her dark eyes to Esmeralda's amazed face.

"Hullo, you must be Esmeralda." She glanced down at the plastered foot and shuddered.

"You're a cripple, aren't you? I'm so sorry, it must be a dead bore for you--Leslie's sorry for you too."

She might have gone on at some length, oblivious of Leslie's fury and Esmeralda's white face, only Mr. Bamstra, appearing apparently from thin air, eased his large frame past her, took the door handle from her grasp, and opened the door wide.

"I really think that you should go," he said in a harsh voice quite unlike his usual placid tones.

"And as for you..." The harshness had become a growl as he turned a quelling gaze upon Leslie.

"Out," said Mr. Bamstra very softly.

He was breathing rather fast, but his face was impa.s.sive, although he added something in his own language, which, while unintelligible to his listeners, left no doubt as to his feelings and caused them to leave with almost undignified haste. He shut the door behind them, picked up the flowers which Leslie had brought with him, pitched them carelessly over the balcony into the courtyard below and sat down where he usually did, on the side of the bed.

Esmeralda had the sensation that she was having a particularly nasty dream--indeed, she wished that were so, for one woke up from dreams, and she was unfortunately very much awake. Without looking at her companion she spoke at length.

"That was his girl-friend," she mumbled, thinking her sad thoughts aloud.

"She's very pretty. She called me a cripple. And Leslie-- I wonder why he came. He doesn't love me, you know--I'm not even sure that he likes me. He looked at my foot as though it was something b-beastly." She gave a long sigh.

"I.

did think that he liked me," she reiterated.

"He took me out and drove me home for that weekend. Do you suppose he only wanted my money? I didn't think he knew about it, but perhaps he did--it's not a great fortune but enough to set up a practice..." She sighed again and asked in a polite voice: "Would you like a cup of tea, Mr. Bamstra?"

She looked at him then and managed a small smile which trembled and died almost at once.

"I was looking forward to Leslie coming--you see, 1 was sure he would because you had said so, and when I saw him I remembered what you'd said about a miracle and waiting three days.. "

He was looking at her steadily and something in his face gave her pause.

"Oh--you knew that he was coming," and then: "You asked him to come."

He nodded, unsmiling.

"Yes, I did, Esmeralda."

She exclaimed childishly: "Oh, why did you do that--it wasn't a miracle."

"Yes, it was--at least it was to start with. You see, you needed one very badly, didn't you? You have been in an apathetic doldrum for several days, haven't you, and that seemed the best way of getting you out of it."

"You're angry, aren't you?"

"Yes--not with you. I didn't imagine for one moment that you would be subjected to such callous treatment, but I had no idea that Chapman was going to bring that girl with him."

She asked with the wisdom of hindsight: "You've known all along that he didn't care tuppence for me, haven't you, so why did you ask him to come?"

"Because I could have been mistaken, and he had to have his chance--you couldn't have gone on expecting a letter or a visit for ever, could you? And there could have been a valid reason for his not writing or coming. I wondered when I telephoned to let him know that the operation had been a success ... and when he didn't write, I asked him to write to you; that a letter would encourage you. You had a telegram instead, so when I was at Trent's I saw him and suggested that he might like to come over and see you.

I knew then about this girl, but she might not have been important--as I told you, I had no idea that she would be with him."

"You were so sure that he didn't love me," she said sadly.

"Oh, yes." He smiled faintly.

"If he had-loved you, my dear, he would have been here, making sure that I did everything properly in theatre, visiting you every hour of the day, watching every procedure with a hawk eye, filling your room with flowers..."

Esmeralda suspected that under his elegant, placid appearance, Mr. Bamstra was a romantic, but at, present her poor head was too full of her own miseries to give much thought to that.

"He was busy," she said feebly.

"Don't give me that," said her companion unexpectedly and with some force, so that she looked at him again with amazement; it seemed to her to be exquisitely funny that he should use such an inelegant phrase. She laughed, and the laughter turned quite unexpectedly to heartfelt sobs.

"Oh, what shall I do?" she wailed, and found herself plucked from her chair and engulfed in a soothing, impersonal embrace.

"That's better," observed Mr. Bamstra, addressing no one in particular, "I don't hold with all this dry-eyed courage--though mind you," he rambled on in a comfortable way, 'you've become quite a watering pot, haven't you?

Whenever I come--the nurses will think that I beat you. "

The idea was so ludicrous that she stopped sobbing to giggle, heaved a watery sigh and said: "Thank you for being such a dear, Mr. Bamstra. I'll feel better about it presently; just at the moment it's like a nightmare."

"One wakes up. You will promise me something, Esmeralda."

"I don't know--if I can, I will."

"I shall write you up for something to make you sleep soundly all night--you will oblige me by taking it."

"I never take sleeping pills," she protested.

"I know, that's why I must have your promise--I wouldn't ask you to take one if I didn't think it was a good idea."

A wave of remembered unhappiness washed over her. She blinked back threatening tears and said again: "You're so kind, Mr. Bamstra."

"Try calling me Thimo." His tone was avuncular, but there was a gleam in his eyes which made nonsense of that.

CHAPTER SIX.

esmeralda had thought that she would never sleep that night, and when Nacht Zuster, on her first round of the evening, stood over her while she swallowed the tablets Mr. Bamstra had prescribed for her, she was quite sure that it would be impossible for her to close her eyes, let alone sleep.

The day had been long. Mr. Bamstra had remained to drink a cup of tea with her, but that had been barely midday; the afternoon and evening had stretched endlessly after that, even though Monique had spent a good part of her mealtime with her, and Octavius had come just before tea, ostensibly to arrange for the removal of the pins. He had sat talking to her for a little while, obviously intent on cheering her up, for he had told her a number of long-winded jokes, given her a precis of Leiden's history, and then asked her, in a round-about way, if she liked Monique.

"She's smashing," Esmeralda had said, 'quite one of the prettiest girls I've ever met, and a splendid nurse. "

Octavius had beamed at her.

"I like her also-this evening we visit the cinema together."

"That'll be jolly." Esmeralda, determined to forget her own miseries as much as possible and be interested in someone else, went on: "How often do you get a free evening?"

"Twice--sometimes three times in each week. I share them with the two orthopaedic hous.e.m.e.n, but sometimes there is an emergency and then we get none at all."

"And then Mr. Bamstra comes in?"

"Of course. He is in Utrecht now; he was late leaving here and so his list was put back. He will be operating until quite late this evening, I think, and tomorrow he has a heavy list for the afternoon."

He had gone soon after that, leaving her to wonder if it was because of her that Mr. Bamstra had been delayed.

She lay thinking about it now, her eyes wide open and sleep quite impossible.

She was going to have a wakeful night despite Mr. Bamstra's pills. In a way it was a good thing, for it would give her a chance to think about her future; one always thought clearly in the dead of night.

She woke to find the sun streaming in through the window and Anna standing by her bed with the thermometer in one hand and the tea tray in the other.

Esmeralda sat up and said good morning in a bemused way, took the thermometer and stuck it under her tongue and perched the tray on her knees, then she took the thermometer out again almost at once to exclaim: "But I don't even remember feeling sleepy. I'd never felt more wide awake--I didn't wake once."

Anna grinned.

"Mr. Bamstra does not make mistakes about these things," she pointed out.

"He wished you to sleep and you have done so. He came at one o'clock this morning and was satisfied."

Esmeralda poured her tea.

"Did I snore?" she asked anxiously.

"No, you slept, that was all."

Esmeralda put the thermometer back in her mouth. A night's sleep had worked wonders. She was unhappy, and she would be that for some time to come, but she wasn't going to be silly about it again. Leslie would be locked away in the back of her mind, and although she might never forget him, she would at least learn to forget the future she had painted for herself. She examined the thermometer, said "Normal," and poured her tea as she enquired as to what sort of night Anna had had, and then listened with apparent interest in her answer, fighting off the awful feeling that nothing mattered any more.

She got the better of it presently and went through her normal routine after breakfast, then settled down to work at some charming embroidery her mother had brought for her to do--little Dutch figures, windmills and houses arranged down the length of an old-fashioned bell-pull. Mrs. Jones had declared that it was something she had wanted to possess all her life and Esmeralda, threading her needle, vowed silently to have it finished before she went back home. It would give her an aim in life at present she felt that she had none.

She was st.i.tching away laboriously when Mr. Bamstra came in. He greeted her affably, observed that he was glad to hear from Monique that she had had a good night, and added: "You look nice sitting there with your needlework--I don't think knitting suits you."

She had to laugh a little at that.

"I don't think it does either--I don't intend to do any more, much prefer this."

"What were you knitting?"

She supposed that it was inevitable that he should ask that. She said in a colourless voice: "It was going to be a pullover."

He gave her a quick look from under his lids and said easily: "Turn it into a cardigan for Nanny's Christmas present--or make me some gloves for when I take the dogs out in the winter."

She seized on that, happy to escape her thoughts. Dogs? How many? "

"Two--a ba.s.sett hound and an animal of no known origin."

"You find time to take them out every day?"

"Almost always."

"Mother told me that you had a nice house," she ventured.

He smiled pleasantly, "That was kind of her," and added disappointingly: "About these pinsI'll have them out the day after tomorrow--nine o'clock sharp, and the day after that I've promised Loveday that I would drive you up to stay with them, if you would like that."

"Oh, very much--how kind of her, and you, to me, but isn't it encroaching on your time?"

"No." He sounded matter-of-fact.

"I intended going up to Friesland in any case. Toukje gets fretful if I don't go as often as I can."