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.'
