EMMY told him without embellishments. 'So you see it's all turned out marvellously. We just have to sell this house-that's why I'm here. We thought I'd have to give a month's notice, and it seemed a splendid idea for me to stay on until I could leave and try and sell the house at the same time. Only being made redundant was a surprise. I've not told Father, of course.'
'You are here alone, with no furniture, no comforts?'
'Oh, I've got my bed upstairs, and a cupboard, and I don't need much. Of course, we thought I'd be at the hospital all day or all night. Actually,' she told him, wanting to put a good light on things, 'It's worked out very well, for I stay at home each day from one o'clock so that I can show people round…'
'You get many prospective buyers?'
'Well, not many, not every day. It isn't a very attractive house.'
The professor agreed silently to this. 'You will join your parents for Christmas? Have you a job in mind to go to?'
'Yes. Well, I've hardly had time, have I?' she asked reasonably. Then added, 'Perhaps I'll be able to take a course in embroidery and needlework…'
She didn't go on; he didn't want to know her plans. She asked instead, 'Did you have a pleasant time in Holland?'
'Yes. I'll wait here while you put a few things into a bag, Ermentrude. You will come back with me.'
'Indeed, I won't. Whatever next? I'm quite all right here, thank you. Besides, I must be here to show people round.' She added on a sudden thought, 'Whatever would your fiancйe think? I mean, she's not to know that we don't like each other.' Emmy went bright pink. 'I haven't put that very well…'
'No, you haven't. You have, however, made it quite plain that you do not need my help.'
The professor got to his feet. He said coldly, 'Goodbye, Ermentrude.' And, while she was still searching for the right reply, let himself out of the house.
Emmy listened to the car going away down the street; she made almost no sound. She sat where she was for quite some time, doing her best not to cry.
Presently she got up and got her supper, and since there was nothing to do she went to bed.
She wasn't sure what woke her up. She sat up in bed, listening; the walls were thin, it could have been Mr Grant or Mrs Grimes dropping something or banging a door. She lay down again and then shot up once more. The noise, a stealthy shuffling, was downstairs.
She didn't give herself time to feel frightened. She got out of bed quietly, put on her dressing gown and slippers and, seizing the only weapon handy-her father's umbrella which had somehow got left behind-she opened her door and peered out onto the landing. Someone was there, someone with a torch, and they had left the front door open too.
The nerve, reflected Emmy, in a rage, and swept downstairs, switching on the landing light as she did so. The man was in the empty sitting room, but he came out fast and reached the hall. He was young, his face half hidden by a scarf, a cap pulled down over his eyes and, after his first shock, he gave a nasty little laugh.
'Cor, lummy-An empty 'ouse an' a girl. Alone, are you? Well, let's 'ave yer purse, and make it quick.'
Emmy poked him with the umbrella. 'You get out of this house and you make it quick,' she told him. She gave him another prod. 'Go on…'
He made to take the umbrella from her, but this time she whacked him smartly over the head so that he howled with pain.
'Out,' said Emmy in a loud voice which she hoped hid her fright. She switched on the hall light now, hoping that someone, even at two o'clock in the morning, would see it. But the man, she was glad to see, had retreated to the door. She followed him, umbrella at the ready, and he walked backwards into the street.
Rather puffed up with her success at getting rid of him, she followed him, unaware that the man's mate was standing beside the door, out of sight. She heard him call out before something hard hit her on the head and she keeled over.
She didn't hear them running away since for the moment she had been knocked out. But Mr Grant, trotting to the window to see why there was a light shining into the street, saw them. Old though he was, he made his way downstairs and out of his house to where Emmy lay. Emmy didn't answer when he spoke to her, and she was very pale. He crossed the road and rang the bell of the house opposite. It sounded very loud at that time of the night. He rang again, and presently a window was opened and the teenager hung his head out.
'Come down, oh, do come down-Ermentrude has been hurt.'
The head disappeared and a moment later the boy, in his coat and boots, came out. 'Thieves? Take anything, did they? Not that there's anything to take.' He bent over Emmy. 'I'll get her inside and the door shut.'
He was a big lad, and strong; he picked Emmy up and carried her into the kitchen and set her in a chair. 'Put the kettle on,' he suggested. 'I'll be back in a tick; I'll get my phone.'
As he came back into the kitchen Emmy opened her eyes. She said crossly, 'I've got the most awful headache. Someone hit me.'
'You're right there. Who shall I ring? You'd better have a doctor-and the police.' He stood looking at her for a moment, and was joined by Mr Grant. 'You can't stay here, that's for certain. Got any friends? Someone to look after you?'
Mr Grant had brought her a wet towel, and she was holding it to her head. She felt sick and frightened and there was no one…Yes, there was. He might not like her, but he would help and she remembered his number; she had rung it time and again from the hospital.
She said muzzily, 'Yes, there's someone, if you'd tell him. Ask him if he would come.' She gave the boy the number and closed her eyes.
'He'll be along in fifteen minutes,' said the boy. 'Lucky the streets are empty at this time of night. Did they take anything?'
Emmy shook her head, and then wished she hadn't. 'No. There's nothing to take; my purse and bag are upstairs and they didn't get that far.' She said tiredly, 'Thank you both for coming to help me; I'm very grateful.'
As far as she was concerned, she thought, they can make all the noise they like and I'll never even think of complaining.
Mr Grant gave her a cup of tea and she tried to drink it, holding it with both shaky hands while the boy phoned the police. Then there was nothing to do but wait. The boy and Mr Grant stood drinking tea, looking rather helplessly at her.
'I'm going to be sick,' said Emmy suddenly, and lurched to the sink.
Which was how the professor found her a couple of minutes later.
The boy had let him in. 'You the bloke she told me to phone?' he asked suspiciously.
'Yes. I'm a doctor. Have you called the police?'
'Yes. She's in the kitchen being sick.'
Emmy was past caring about anyone or anything. When she felt the professor's large, cool hand on her wrist, she mumbled, 'I knew you'd come. I feel sick, and I've got a headache.'
He opened his bag. 'I'm not surprised; you have a bump the size of a hen's egg on your head.' His hands were very gentle. 'Keep still, Ermentrude, while I take a look.'
She hardly felt his hands after that, and while he dealt with the lump and the faint bleeding he asked what had happened.
Mr Grant and the boy both told him at once, talking together.
'The police?'
'They said they were on their way.'
The professor said gravely, 'It is largely due to the quick thinking and courage of both of you that Ermentrude isn't more severely injured. I'll get her to hospital just as soon as the police get here.'
They came a few minutes later, took statements from Mr Grant and the boy, agreed with the professor that Ermentrude wasn't in a fit state to say anything at the moment and agreed to interview her later. 'We will lock the door and keep the key at the station.' The officer swept his gaze round the bare room. 'No one lives here?'
'Yes, me,' said Ermentrude. 'Just for a few weeks-until someone wants to buy it. Do you want me to explain?' She opened her eyes and closed them again.
'Wait until you know what you're talking about,' advised the professor bracingly. He spoke to one of the officers. 'Miss Foster is staying here for a short time; her parents have moved and she has stayed behind to settle things up.' He added, 'You will want to see her, of course. She will be staying at my house.' He gave the address, heedless of Emmy's mutterings.
'Now, if I might have a blanket in which to wrap her, I'll take her straight to St Luke's. I'm a consultant there. She needs to be X-rayed.'
Emmy heard this in a muzzy fashion. It wouldn't do at all; she must say something. She lifted her head too quickly, and then bent it over the sink just in time. The professor held her head in a matter-of-fact way while the others averted their gaze.
'The blanket?' asked the professor again, and the boy went upstairs and came back with her handbag and the quilt from Emmy's bed. The professor cleaned her up in a businesslike manner, wrapped her in the quilt and picked her up.
'If I'm not at my home I'll be at the hospital.' He thanked Mr Grant and the boy, bade the officers a civil goodnight, propped Emmy in the back of the car and, when she began to mumble a protest, told her to be quiet.
He said it in a very gentle voice, though. She closed her eyes, lying back in the comfortable seat, and tried to forget her raging headache.
At the hospital she was whisked straight to X-Ray. She was vaguely aware of the radiographer complaining good-naturedly to the professor and of lying on a trolley for what seemed hours.
'No harm done,' said the professor quietly in her ear. 'I'm going to see to that lump, and then you can be put to bed and sleep.'
She was wheeled to Casualty then, and lay quietly while he bent over her, peering into her eyes, putting a dressing on her head. She was drowsy now, but his quiet voice mingling with Sister's brisk tone was soothing. She really didn't care what happened next.
When he lifted her into the car once more, she said, 'Not here…' But since the professor took no notice of her she closed her eyes again. She had been given a pill to swallow in Casualty; her headache was almost bearable and she felt nicely sleepy.
Beaker was waiting when the professor reached his house, carried Emmy indoors and asked, 'You got Mrs Burge to come round? I had no time to give you details. If I carry Miss Foster upstairs perhaps she will help her to bed.'
'She's upstairs waiting, sir. What a to-do. The poor young lady-knocked out, was she?'
'Yes. I'll tell you presently, Beaker. I could do with a drink, and I expect you could, too. Did Mrs Burge make any objections?'
'Not her! I fetched her like you told me to, and she'll stay as long as she's wanted.'
The professor was going upstairs with Emmy, fast asleep now, in his arms. 'Splendid.'
Mrs Burge met him on the small landing. 'In the small guest room, sir. Just you lay her down on the bed and I'll make her comfortable.'
She was a tall, bony woman with hair screwed into an old-fashioned bun and a sharp nose. A widow, she had been coming each day to help Beaker for some time now, having let it be known from the outset that through no fault of her own she had fallen on hard times and needed to earn her living.
Beaker got on well with her, and she had developed an admiration for the professor, so that being routed out of her bed in the early hours of the morning was something she bore with equanimity. She said now, 'Just you leave the young lady to me, sir, and go and have a nap-you'll be dead on your feet and a day's work ahead of you.'
The professor said, 'Yes, Mrs Burge,' in a meek voice, merely adding that he would be up presently just to make sure that Emmy's pulse was steady and that she slept still. 'I know I leave her in good hands,' he told Mrs Burge, and she bridled with pleasure.
For all her somewhat forbidding appearance she was a kind-hearted woman. She tucked Emmy, still sleeping, into bed, dimmed the bedside light and sat down in the comfortable armchair, keeping faithful watch.
'She's not moved,' she told the professor presently. 'Sleeping like a baby.'
He bent over the bed, took Emmy's pulse and felt her head.
'I'll leave these pills for her to take, Mrs Burge. See that she has plenty to drink, and if she wants to eat, so much the better. A couple of days in bed and she'll be quite herself. There's only the mildest of concussions, and the cut will heal quickly.
'I'm going to the hospital in an hour or so and shall be there all day. Ring me if you're worried. Beaker will give you all the assistance you require, and once Ermentrude is awake there is no reason why you shouldn't leave her from time to time. I'll be back presently when I've had breakfast so that you can have yours with Beaker.'
He went away to shower and dress and eat his breakfast and then returned, and Mrs Burge went downstairs to where Beaker was waiting with eggs and bacon.
Emmy hadn't stirred; the professor sat down in a chair, watching her. She suited the room, he decided-quite a small room, but charming with its white furniture, its walls covered with a delicate paper of pale pink roses and soft green leaves. The curtains were white, and the bedspread matched the wallpaper exactly. It was a room he had planned with the help of his younger sister, whose small daughter slept in it when they visited him.
'Though once you're married, Ruerd,' she had told him laughingly, 'you'll need it for your own daughter.'
Emmy, with her hair all over the pillow, looked very young and not at all plain, he decided. When Mrs Burge came back he said a word or two to her, bent over the bed once more and stopped himself just in time from kissing Emmy.
It was late in the morning when Emmy woke, to stare up into Mrs Burge's face. She was on the point of asking 'Where am I?' and remembered that only heroines in books said that. Instead she said, 'I feel perfectly all right; I should like to get up.'
'Not just yet, love. I'm going to bring you a nice little pot of tea and something tasty to eat. You're to sit up a bit if you feel like it. I'll put another pillow behind you. There…'
'I don't remember very clearly,' began Emmy. 'I was taken to the hospital and I went to sleep.'
'Why, you're snug and safe here in Professor ter Mennolt's house, dearie, and me and Beaker are keeping an eye on you. He's gone to the hospital, but he'll be home this evening.'
Emmy sat up too suddenly and winced. 'I can't stay here. There's no one at the house-the estate agent won't know-someone might want to buy it…'
'Leave everything to the professor, ducks. You may be sure he'll have thought of what's to be done.'
Mrs Burge went away and came back presently with a tray daintily laid with fine china-a teapot, cup and saucer, milk and sugar. 'Drink this, there's a good girl,' she said. 'Beaker's getting you a nice little lunch and then you must have another nap.'
'I'm quite able to get up,' said Emmy, to Mrs Burge's departing back.
'You'll stay just where you are until I say you may get out of bed,' said the professor from the door. 'Feeling better?'
'Yes, thank you. I'm sorry I've given you all so much trouble. Couldn't I have stayed in hospital and then gone home?'
'No,' said the professor. 'You will stay here today and tomorrow, and then we will decide what is to be done. I have phoned the estate agent. He has a set of keys for your house and will deal with anyone who wishes to view it. The police will come some time this afternoon to ask you a few questions if you feel up to it.'
'You're very kind, sir, and I'm grateful. I'll be quite well by tomorrow, I can go…'
'Where?' He was leaning over the foot of the bed, watching her.
She took a sip of tea. 'I'm sure Mrs Grimes would put me up.'
'Mrs Grimes-the lady with the powerful voice? Don't talk nonsense, Ermentrude.' He glanced up as Mrs Burge came in with a tray. 'Here is your lunch; eat all of it and drink all the lemonade in that jug. I'll be back this evening.'
He went away and presently out of the house, for he had a clinic that early afternoon. He had missed lunch in order to see Ermentrude, and had only time to swallow a cup of coffee before his first patient arrived.
Emmy ate her lunch under Mrs Burge's watchful eye and, rather to her surprise, went to sleep again to wake and find another tray of tea, and Mrs Burge shaking out a gossamer-fine nightie.
'If you feel up to it, I'm to help you have a bath, love. You're to borrow one of the professor's sister's nighties. You'll feel a whole lot better.'
'Would someone be able to fetch my clothes so that I can go home tomorrow?' asked Emmy.
'Beaker will run me over this evening. You just tell me what you want and I'll pack it up for you. Professor ter Mennolt's got the keys.'
'Oh, thank you. You're very kind. Were you here when I came last night?'
'Yes-Beaker fetched me-three o'clock in the morning…'
'You must be so tired. I'm quite all right, Mrs Burge. Can't you go home and have a good sleep?'
'Bless you, ducks, I'm as right as a trivet; don't you worry your head about me. Now, how about a bath?'
Getting carefully out of bed, Emmy discovered that she still had a headache and for the moment wished very much to crawl back between the sheets. But the thought of being seen in her present neglected state got her onto her feet and into the adjoining bathroom, and once in the warm, scented water with Mrs Burge sponging her gently she began to feel better.
'I suppose I can't wash my hair?'
'Lawks, no, love. I'll give it a bit of a comb, but I daren't go messing about with it until the professor says so.'
'It's only a small cut,' said Emmy, anxious to look her best.
'And a lump the size of an egg-that'll take a day or two. A proper crack on the head and no mistake. Lucky that neighbour saw the light and the men running away. It could have been a lot worse,' said Mrs Burge with a gloomy relish.
Emmy, dried, powdered and in the kind of nightgown she had often dreamed of possessing, sat carefully in a chair while Mrs Burge made her bed and shook up her pillows. Once more settled against them, Emmy sighed with relief. It was absurd that a bang on the head should make her feel so tired. She closed her eyes and went to sleep.
Which was how the professor found her when he got home. He stood looking down at her for a long minute, and in turn was watched by Mrs Burge.
They went out of the room together. 'Go home, Mrs Burge,' he told her. 'You've been more than kind. If you could come in tomorrow, I would be most grateful. I must contrive to get Ermentrude down to her parents-they are in Dorset and know nothing of this. They are moving house, and I don't wish to make things more difficult for them than I must. Another day of quiet rest here and I think I might drive her down on the following day…'
Mrs Burge crossed her arms across her thin chest. 'Begging your pardon, sir, but I'll be back here to sleep tonight.'
He didn't smile, but said gravely, 'That would be good of you, Mrs Burge, as long as you find that convenient.'
'It's convenient.' She nodded. 'And I'll make sure the young lady's all right tomorrow.'
'I'm in your debt, Mrs Burge. Come back when you like this evening. Is there a room ready for you?'
'Yes, sir, I saw to that myself.' She hesitated. 'Miss Ermentrude did ask if someone could fetch her clothes. I said I'd go this evening…'
'Tell me when you want to go; I'll drive you over. Perhaps you had better ask her if she needs anything else. Money or papers of any sort.'
Emmy woke presently and, feeling much better, made a list of what she needed and gave it to Mrs Burge.
'I'm off home for a bit,' said that lady. 'But I'll be back this evening. Beaker will bring you up some supper presently. You just lie there like a good girl.'
So Emmy lay back and, despite a slight headache, tried to make plans. Once she had been pronounced fit, she decided, she would go back to the house. She didn't much fancy being there alone, but reassured herself with the thought that lightning never struck twice in the same place…She would go to the estate agents again, too, and there was only another week or so until Christmas now.
Her thoughts were interrupted by the professor and her supper tray.
He greeted her with an impersonal hello. 'Beaker has done his best, so be sure and eat everything.'
He put the tray down, set the bed table across her knees and plumped up her pillows. 'I think you might get up tomorrow-potter round the house, go into the garden-well wrapped-up. I'll take you home the day after.'
'You're very kind, but I must go back to the house, just in case someone wants to buy it. I mean, I can't afford to miss a chance. It'll have to be left empty when I go home at Christmas, and you know how awful houses look when they're empty. So if you don't mind…'
'I do mind, Ermentrude, and you'll do as I say. I'll phone the estate agent if it will set your mind at rest and rearrange things. Do you want me to tell your parents what has happened?'
'Oh, no-they're getting the house straight, and Father's at the school all day so it's taking a bit of time. They've enough to worry about. They don't need to know anyway.'
'Just as you wish. Does Mrs Burge know what to fetch for you?'
'Yes, thank you. I gave her a list. I've only a few clothes there; Mother took the rest with her.'
'Then I'll say goodnight, Ermentrude. Sleep well.'
She was left to eat her supper, a delicious meal Beaker had devised with a good deal of thought. It was he who came to get the tray later, bringing with him fresh lemonade and a fragile china plate with mouth-watering biscuits.
'I make them myself, miss,' he told her, beaming at her praise of the supper. 'Mrs Burge will look in on you when she gets back, with a nice drop of hot milk.'
'Thank you, Beaker, you have been so kind and I'm giving you a lot of extra work.'
'A pleasure, miss.'
'I heard Charlie barking…'
'A spirited dog, miss, and a pleasure to have in the house. Humphrey and he are quite partial to each other. When you come downstairs tomorrow he will be delighted to see you.'
Emmy, left alone, ate some of the biscuits, drank some of the lemonade and thought about the professor. His household ran on oiled wheels, that was obvious. His Anneliese, when she married him, would have very little to do-a little tasteful flower-arranging perhaps, occasional shopping, although she thought that Beaker might not like that. And of course later there would be the children to look after.
Emmy frowned. She tried to imagine Anneliese nursing a baby, changing nappies or coping with a toddler and failed. She gave up thinking about it and thought about the professor instead, wishing he would come home again and come and see her. She liked him, she decided, even though he was difficult to get to know. Then, why should he wish her to know too much about him? She had no place in his life.
Much later she heard the front door close, and Charlie barking. He and Mrs Burge went home. She lay, watching the door. When it opened Mrs Burge came in, a suitcase in one hand, a glass of milk in the other.
'Still awake? I've brought everything you asked for, and Professor ter Mennolt went to see the estate agent at his home and fixed things up. No one's been to look at the house.' Mrs Burge's sniff implied that she wasn't surprised at that. 'We looked everywhere to make sure that things were just so. And there's some post. Would you like to read it now?'
She put the milk on the bedside table. 'Drink your milk first. It's time you were sleeping.'
Emmy asked hesitantly, 'Are you going home now, Mrs Burge?'
'No, ducks. I'll be here, just across the landing, if you want me. Now I'll just hang up your things…'
Emmy stifled disappointment. There was no reason why the professor should wish to see her. He must, in fact, be heartily sick of her by now, disrupting his life.
The professor was talking on the phone. Presently he got his coat, ushered Charlie into the back of the car and, with a word to Beaker, drove himself to St Luke's where one of his patients was giving rise to anxiety.
He got home an hour later, ate the dinner which Beaker served him with the air of someone who had long learned not to mind when his carefully prepared meals were eaten hours after they should have been, and went to his study to work at his desk with the faithful Charlie sprawled over his feet.
Waking the following morning, Emmy decided that she felt perfectly well again. She ate her breakfast in bed, since Mrs Burge told her sternly not to get up till later.
'Professor ter Mennolt went off an hour ago,' she told Emmy. 'What a life that man leads, never an hour to call his own.'
Which wasn't quite true, but Emmy knew what she meant. 'I suppose all doctors are at everyone's beck and call, but it must be a rewarding life.'
'Well, let's hope he gets his reward; he deserves it,' said Mrs Burge. 'Time that fiancйe of his made up her mind to marry him.' She sniffed. 'Wants too much, if you ask me. Doesn't like this house-too small, she says…'
'Too small?' Emmy put down her cup. 'But it's a big house-I mean, big enough for a family.'
'Huh,' said Mrs Burge forcefully. 'Never mind a family, she likes to entertain-dinner parties and friends visiting. She doesn't much like Beaker, either.'
Emmy, aware that she shouldn't be gossiping, nonetheless asked, 'But why not? He's the nicest person…'
'True enough, love. Looks after the professor a treat.'
'So do you, Mrs Burge.'
'Me? I come in each day to give a hand, like. Been doing it for years, ever since the professor bought the house. A very nice home he's made of it, too. I have heard that he's got a tip-top place in Holland, too. Well, it stands to reason, doesn't it? He's over there for the best part of the year-only comes here for a month or two, though he pops over if he's needed. Much in demand, he is.'
She picked up Emmy's tray. 'Now, you have a nice bath and get dressed and come downstairs when you're ready. I'll be around and just you call if you want me. We'd better pack your things later on; the professor's driving you home in the morning.'
So Emmy got herself out of bed, first taking a look at her lump before going to the bathroom. The swelling had almost gone and the cut was healing nicely. She stared at her reflection for several moments; she looked a fright, and she was going to wash her hair before anyone told her not to.
Bathed, and with her hair in a damp plait, she went downstairs to find Beaker hovering in the hall.
His, 'Good morning, miss,' was affable. 'There's a cup of coffee in the small sitting room; it's nice and cosy there.'
He led the way and opened a door onto a quite small room at the back of the house. It was furnished very comfortably, and there was a fire burning in the elegant fireplace. A small armchair had been drawn up to it, flanked by a table on which were newspapers and a magazine or two. Sitting in front of the fire, waving his tail, asking to be noticed, was Charlie.
Emmy, sitting down, could think of nothing more delightful than to be the owner of such a room and such a dog, with a faithful old friend like Beaker smoothing out life's wrinkles. She said on a happy sigh, 'This is such a lovely house, Beaker, and everything is so beautifully polished and cared for.'
Beaker allowed himself to smile. 'The master and I, we're happy here, or so I hope, miss.' He went, soft-footed, to the door. 'I'll leave you to drink your coffee; lunch will be at one o'clock.'
He opened the door and she could hear Mrs Burge Hoovering somewhere.
'I suppose the professor won't be home for lunch?'
'No, miss. Late afternoon. He has an evening engagement.'
She put on her coat and went into the garden with Charlie after lunch. For one belonging to a town house the garden was surprisingly large, and cleverly planned to make the most of its space. She wandered up and down while Charlie pottered, and presently when they went indoors she sought out Beaker.
'Do you suppose I might take Charlie for a walk?' she asked him.
Beaker looked disapproving. 'I don't think the professor would care for that, miss. Charlie has had a long walk, early this morning with his master. He will go out again when the professor comes home. There's a nice fire burning in the drawing room. Mrs Burge asked me to let you know that she'll be back this evening if you should need any help with your packing. I understand that you are to make an early start.'
So Emmy retreated to the drawing room and curled up by the fire with Charlie beside her and Humphrey on her lap. She leafed through the newspapers and magazines on the table beside her, not reading them, her mind busy with her future. Christmas was too close for her to look for work; she would stay at home and help to get their new house to rights. There would be curtains to sew and hang, possessions to be stowed away in cupboards.
She wondered what the house was like. Her mother had written to tell her that it was delightful, but had had no time to describe it. There had been a slight hitch, she had written; the previous occupant's furniture was for the most part still in the house owing to some delay in its transport. 'But,' her mother had written, 'we shall be quite settled in by the time you come.'
Beaker brought tea presently; tiny sandwiches, fairy cakes and a chocolate cake which he assured her he had baked especially for her. 'Most young ladies enjoy them,' he told her.
Emmy was swallowing the last morsel when Charlie bounded to his feet, barking, and a moment later the professor came into the room.
His 'Hello,' was friendly and casual. He sat down, then enquired how she felt and cut himself a slice of cake.
'I'll run you home in the morning,' he told her. 'The day after tomorrow I shall be going to Holland.'
'There's no need,' said Emmy.
'Don't be silly,' said the professor at his most bracing. 'You can't go back to an empty house, and in a very short time you would be going home anyway. There seems little chance of selling the house at the moment; I phoned the agent this morning. There's nothing of value left there, is there?'
She shook her head. 'No, only my bed and the bedclothes and a few bits of furniture.'
'There you are, then. We'll leave at eight o'clock.' He got up. 'Charlie and I are going for our walk-I shall be out tonight. Beaker's looking after you?'
'Oh, yes, thank you.'
'Mrs Burge will come again this evening. Ask for anything you want.'
His smile was remote as he went away.
She was still sitting there when he returned an hour later with Charlie, but he didn't come into the drawing room, and later still she heard him leave the house once more. Beaker, opening the door for Charlie to come in, said that Mrs Burge was in the kitchen if she needed her for anything. 'I'll be serving dinner in half an hour, Miss. May I pour you a glass of sherry?'
It might lift her unexpected gloom, thought Emmy, accepting. Why she should feel so downcast she had no idea; she should have been on the top of the world-leaving London and that pokey house and going to live miles away in Dorset. She wouldn't miss anything or anyone, she told herself, and the professor, for one, would be glad to see her go; she had caused enough disruption in his life.
Beaker had taken great pains with dinner-mushroom soup, sole а la femme, creamed potatoes and baby sprouts, and an apricot pavlova to follow these. He poured her a glass of wine too, murmuring that the professor had told him to do so.
She drank her coffee in Humphrey's company and then, since she was heartily sick of her own company, went in search of Mrs Burge. There was still some packing to do, and that lady came willingly enough to give her help, even though it wasn't necessary. It passed an hour or so in comfortable chat and presently Emmy said that she would go to bed.
'We're to go early in the morning, so I'll say goodbye, Mrs Burge, and thank you for being so kind and helpful.'
'Bless you, ducks, it's been a pleasure, and I'll be up to see you off. Beaker will have breakfast on the table sharp at half past seven-I'll give you a call at seven, shall I?'
She turned on her way out. 'I must say you look a sight better than when you got here.'
Emmy, alone, went to the triple looking-glass on the dressing table and took a good look. If she was looking better now she must have looked a perfect fright before. No wonder the professor showed little interest in her company. Anyway, she reminded herself, his mind would be on Anneliese.
She woke in the morning to find her bedside lamp on and Mrs Burge standing there with a tray of tea.
'It's a nasty old day,' said Mrs Burge. 'Still dark, too. You've got half an hour. The professor's already up and out with Charlie.'
The thought of keeping him waiting spurred Emmy on to dress with speed. She was downstairs with only moments to spare as he and Charlie came into the house.
His good morning was spoken warmly. He's glad I'm going, thought Emmy as she answered cheerfully.
'There's still time to put me on a train,' she told him as they sat down to breakfast. 'It would save you a miserable drive.'
He didn't bother to answer. 'The roads will be pretty empty for another hour or so,' he observed, just as though she hadn't spoken. 'We should get to Littleton Mangate by mid-morning. Ready to leave, are you?'
Emmy went to thank Beaker and Mrs Burge, and got into her coat while Beaker fetched her case down to the car. It was bitterly cold, and she took a few quick breaths before she got into the car, glad to see Charlie already sprawling on the back seat. It was almost like having a third person in the car, even though he obviously intended to go to sleep.
It was striking eight o'clock as they drove away, starting the tedious first part of their journey through London's streets and presently the suburbs.