Esmeralda Part 7

The day pa.s.sed quietly. Octavius came and went, Syja brought her her meals and accompanied her to physio too, because there was a staircase which Mr.

Bamstra said she was to use instead of the lift.

Esmeralda found it a little difficult, but she was beginning to think of her foot as a foot again, even though it lay so securely in its plaster. She was tired when she got back to her room, but she didn't mind that. She didn't mind the lack of post, either, on the fact that she would have to unpick several rows of wrongly done knitting; she felt that at last she was making progress. She felt proud of her efforts on the stairs; and over and above that, although had nothing to do with it at all, was the pleasant memory of Mr. Bamstra's remark about her lovely eyes.

Quite buoyed up, Esmeralda re-did her hair; polished her pretty pink nails and changed into the pink gown. It was a bit silly, really, for it was almost tea time and there would certainly be no visitors.

But there were. She had just arranged the last mousey tress to her satisfaction when Monique put her head round the door, said: "People to see you Esmeralda," and withdrew it again to allow Mrs. Jones, followed by Nanny, to come in.

"Mother!" shrieked Esmeralda, and stumped across the room to fling herself into her parent's arms.

"And Nanny!" She hugged her too.

"What a simply gorgeous surprise--how did you get here and where are you staying, and why...?"

Her mother sat down and loosened the jacket of her elegant two-piece.

"Well, darling. Nanny and I have talked about you a great deal, and I know we've written to each other and telephoned and Thimo has let me know how you were getting on, but we did want to see you, and yesterday he suggested that we should come over." She beamed at her daughter.

"So here we are!"

Esmeralda pushed Nanny gently into a chair and went to sit on the bed.

"He never said a word. Did you fly?"

"Yes, and someone met us at the airport and brought us here, and Thimo will fetch us presently and drive us to his home. He wasn't quite sure when he'd be coming, but that nice Sister didn't seem to think it mattered how long we stayed."

"You're staying with Mr. Bamstra?" Esmeralda was astounded.

"Yes, dear--just for a couple of nights."

"Well.. how kind of him. I don't even know where he lives."

"We don't either," said her mother cheerfully.

"Now we want to hear about everything--I know you've told us all about it on the telephone, but it's never the same. Let me see your foot."

Esmeralda lifted the ungainly limb and had it inspected. Her mother uttered a gasp of horror at the sight of the pins, but Nanny, made of sterner stuff, had a good look.

"Stands to reason," she declared sensibly, 'if all those little bones had to be changed, they would need to be held tight. They look nasty things, but I daresay they don't hurt once they're in. "

"No, they don't, Nanny," Esmeralda agreed, 'and my foot's beginning to look quite a nice colour again. I walk everywhere on it, too--even stairs. "

"It's quite safe?" her mother wanted to know.

"Won't you damage it when you Walk on it?"

"No, darling--it can't move at all, you see, and I use the rest of my leg, and that's good for the muscles."

"You're sure it doesn't hurt?"

"Positive, Mother dear--here's tea, good."

Syja had come in, the ward maid behind her, laden with a tray of tea things, plates of little sandwiches and biscuits.

"The English four o'clock tea," she announced happily, and stayed to laugh and talk for a minute before leaving them to their refreshment.

"Tea," said Mrs. Jones on a great sigh.

"I'm dying for a cup, and so is Nanny. Our one fear was that we wouldn't be able to get our tea."

They were nicely embarked on their first cups when the door opened again and Mr. Bamstra came in.

"I heard the teacups rattling," he explained, greeting them.

"Indeed, each time I come--or almost each time--I find Esmeralda with her nose buried in the teapot."

He sat himself down on the side of the bed and Monique came in with another cup and saucer and said something to him, low-voiced. He looked at his watch and answered her briefly before asking Mrs. Jones: "Will it be all right for you and Miss Toms if I pick you up about six o'clock? I have a case to see in ten minutes, but it won't be going to theatre tonight." He turned his attention at last to Esmeralda.

"How's the foot? Did you manage the stairs?"

"Quite well, not perhaps as gracefully as I would have liked!"

They all laughed and during the next few minutes she had the opportunity of watching him charm Nanny as well as her mother. Indeed, Nanny unbent so far as to tell him that she had brought him a bottle of her cowslip wine, exclusively for his own use.

"And I would take it as a kindness on your part, sir," she abjured him, 'if you would call me Nanny. "

And when he thanked her, she nodded her severely coiffed head in its sensible hat and asked: "And do you have brothers and sisters, Mr. Bamstra?"

It disappointed Esmeralda very much when he told her nothing more than: "Two sisters-married and with children," before he turned the conversation adroitly.

"Have you always been with Mrs. Jones, Nanny?"

The telling of Nanny's busy if uneventful life took up all of the ten minutes he had allowed himself. He got up to go presently, promising to be back as soon as he was able.

He was as good as his word. It still wanted fifteen minutes to the hour when he returned, and within very few minutes ushered Mrs. Jones and Nanny out of the room, staying only just long enough to pa.s.s the time of day with Esmeralda and a.s.sure her that her visitors would be back in the morning.

"You could take them round part of the hospital," he suggested.

"There's a splendid view from the lift foyer windows."

"Shall we see you?" asked Mrs. Jones as she prepared to accompany him.

"Not very likely, I'm afraid--1 have to go to Amsterdam tomorrow, although I shall come here to pick you up about teatime, if that suits you." He waited patiently while first Mrs. Jones and then Nanny embraced Esmeralda, added his own rather casual good night, and escorted them from the room, leaving her feeling forlorn in a room suddenly very empty; he was back again within seconds, however.

"Far be it from me to ignore the bedtime ritual," he observed blandly, and kissed her too.

By the time Esmeralda saw him late the following afternoon, she had persuaded herself that his gesture had been purely avuncular--offered, as it were, as a mark of his appreciation of her efforts to make a quick recovery. And his manner, when he did come, bore this out. He was charming, as he almost always was, friendly, and just a little withdrawn--certainly he showed no sign of awareness of her slight awkwardness when she greeted him. Probably it pa.s.sed unnoticed anyway, because her mother had a great deal to say and he spent several minutes talking to Nanny. When he eventually asked her how her foot was progressing, she had got over the awkwardness and answered him in her usual calm manner, telling him that it was giving no trouble at all.

"In that case, come along to the treatment room and we'll get Monique to take out alternate st.i.tches," he advised her.

She stomped along beside him, arranged her foot for his close inspection and then stayed quiet while Monique got busy with her scissors and forceps.

There were quite a few st.i.tches; he had made a horseshoe incision in the front other foot so that he could get at the crushed bones, and then had tidily sewn it back into place again with small neat st.i.tches. Her foot felt much better even with only half of them out, and the promise that the rest of them should come out on the following day was cheering news--it was just a question of time now, before the pins were removed and, finally, the plaster.

She shut her eyes, picturing Leslie's face when she ran to meet him.

Mr. Bamstra didn't stay long after that; just long enough for her mother and Nanny to make their protracted good nights before he ushered them out of the room, and this time he didn't come back.

Esmeralda, her head full of Leslie and the visit he must surely pay any day now, hardly noticed him go.

The following afternoon her mother and Nanny went back to England, and it wasn't until they had gone, leaving enough flowers, books and chocolates to stock a shop, that she remembered that neither of them had told her a word about Mr. Bamstra's home, or indeed, anything about him at all. She recollected that she had asked her mother what his house was like, and that lady had said vaguely that it was very nice before Nanny had interrupted with something or other, and somehow, each time she had meant to bring the subject up, she had been hedged off. A pity, she thought, having another go at the despised knitting. She should have made more of a thing of it, but her head had been, and still was, filled with thoughts of Leslie. She had talked about him quite a bit to her mother, happy to be able to do so, and not noticing that her mother's replies had been a little cool, and now that she was alone she occupied herself once more with making excuses for him. The urge to write to him--even to telephone--was very great, but she had enough sense not to do that, and there could be a dozen reasons why he hadn't come--perhaps he was waiting until the plaster was off. That was weeks away, she reminded herself gloomily.

The days pa.s.sed slowly, and on each one of them Esmeralda looked for the post and was disappointed. She became a little peevish, lost her appet.i.te and was discovered, far too frequently, wide awake at night when she should have been sleeping. It was a week before she saw Mr. Bamstra again, and when he did come, looking remote in his white coat, and with Octavius and Monique in attendance, she wished him good morning quite snappishly.

"You don't come very often, do you?" she added rudely.

He chose to ignore her ill manners.

"I've been in Vienna," he told her pleasantly.

"How's the foot?"

"Quite all right, thank you. How much longer..."

"Getting fed up with it? Not much longer now--you're doing your exercises?"

And when she nodded: "And now tell me why you are sleeping badly, eating badly and finding life generally unpleasant."

She turned a pair of stormy eyes on his.

"I've been beastly to everyone, haven't I? I don't blame them for complaining."

"No one has complained, Esmeralda, and you haven't been beastly and will you answer my question?"

She was still looking at him. Suddenly she gave a sniff and burst into tears something which she realized she had been longing to do for days now. The relief was so great that she really let herself go, the tears streaming down her cheeks, while sobs, snorts and sniffs followed each other in a rush.

Mr. Bamstra eyed her thoughtfully and without surprise, nodded to his two companions and then closed the door soundlessly behind them, then he went and sat down on the side of the bed, his large hands clasped between his knees, apparently studying the floor. He waited with patience while she sniffed and snorted and sobbed herself to a standstill before saying in a kindly voice: "Wash your face, there's a good girl, and then tell me all about it." And such was the gentleness of his voice that Esmeralda did as she was told without even bothering to look at her hideously reddened and puffy face, and then went and sat down again.

"Leslie?" asked Mr. Bamstra with an impersonal sympathy which somehow compelled her to answer him.

She nodded, and without any further prompting poured it all out in a toneless voice which seemed somehow worse than her outburst of tears had been.

"Only a telegram," she uttered.

"I've been here ages, haven't I? and I've been making all kinds of excuses, but it's no good any more, he's n-not coming--I don't suppose he ever will--perhaps he never meant to, but why did he say...?" She stopped and took a deep breath.

"He took me home for the weekend, you know, and I thought..." She gulped.

"I.

don't really care about my beastly foot any more," she declared furiously.

"I know I sound ungrateful and stupid, but I don't--it just d-doesn't matter--for all I care you can take the wretched pins out now and hack off the plaster and I'll be a cripple again!"

Mr. Bamstra made no reply to this impa.s.sioned, unbalanced speech, so in the end she was forced to look at him. He had continued the study of the floor while she had been speaking, but now he looked up.

"There are a number of things I could suggest," he remarked mildly.

"You could telephone him at Trent's--but that's out, isn't it? You're not that kind of a girl; you would rather live your life out in sorrow than drop your guard, wouldn't you? You could telephone your friends--and you must have any number of them at the hospital and ask a few questions, but that smacks of a lack of trust, doesn't it? That won't do either." His grey eyes held hers.

"And you could wait just a little longer--three days, perhaps?"

He unclasped his hands and removed a tiny thread from his exquisitely cut trousers.

"Personally, I am a firm believer in miracles."

Esmeralda's eyes shone with green fire between their puffy lids.

"Would you do that, Mr. Bamstra? Truly?"

"Truly I would, Esmeralda." He got to his feet.

"I shall take those pins out in one week's time. In a way, your foot is a small miracle, isn't it?"

Her poor blotchy face went red.

"I'm sorry I said that, it was rotten of me. You see, I'm not a very nice person when things go wrong, am I? ".

He stood looking down at her, smiling faintly.

"You must remember, Esmeralda, that to the people who love you, you are always a very nice person--tears and temper and rude words just don't matter to them, because they love you and understand."

Presently he went away, and she went to the mirror and did things to her face, feeling better than she had done for days. Mr. Bamstra had sounded so very sure, and somehow he had made her feel sure too. She would do exactly as he had suggested and wait for several days--three days. Probably she had got het up about nothing at all; an overworked imagination had made her see everything with exaggerated despondency.

Buoyed up with these thoughts, she went for a walk along the corridor and into the lift foyer, exchanged the time of day with one or two other patients and walked carefully back again, and Monique, meeting her on the way, stopped for a friendly chat without mentioning once that Esmeralda had been in floods of tears not half an hour earlier.

She didn't see Mr. Bamstra at all the next day, nor on the two days which followed it, and although she was vaguely regretful about it, she didn't allow it to spoil her days. She presented a cheerful face to the world, excelled herself at physio and wrote a number of long, chatty letters, and for good measure ate all her meals in an exemplary manner.

It was on the morning of the following day that she glanced up as she was mounting the stairs from Physio and saw Leslie watching her from the top.

Her first thought was that Mr. Bamstra had been right, the second, that Leslie wasn't smiling. But even as she was thinking it, the charmingly boyish grin which made him so attractive broke over his face. Esmeralda forced herself to climb the remaining stairs at a reasonable pace, half expecting him to come and meet her half way, but he stayed where he was.

Only when she had reached his side did he say: "Hullo, there-- I've been waiting quite ten minutes."

Esmeralda stifled a wish to tell him that she had been waiting for him for a good deal longer than that. Instead she smiled and said in a carefully friendly voice: "I was in Physio--I go twice a day."

She began to walk down the corridor towards her room.